


Speedy Squared

by PletroMaximoff



Series: Speedster!Verse [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Pietro meets his match, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 29,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PletroMaximoff/pseuds/PletroMaximoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you get when you cross a grumpy Sokovian with a girl who's faster than him?<br/>An even grumpier Sokovian.<br/>Speedster!Verse in which the reader has near identical powers to Pietro.<br/>A series of connected one-shots!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

**Author's Note:**

> So, hello! Welcome to my lovely little Speedster!Verse.  
> My headcanon page for this verse can be found at jamessbbarnes.tumblr.com/fic  
> These stories will be posted in the order they were/are written, however you can find the link to the chronological order of these stories up on that page I just mentioned!  
> But if you want to dive right in, there's only four little things you need to know!  
> \- Speedster!Reader has near identical powers to Pietro, except her contrail is gold.  
> \- Pietro and the reader are both mutants, Pietro and Wanda's were born with dormant x-genes which were unlocked when they were experimented on (against their will)  
> \- You joined the Avengers after the twins.  
> \- The non-english language being spoken is Romanian.

“Oh, Sam, Come ON,” You groaned, shifting your sock clad feet in his lap to kick him gently in the thigh. “You’ve seen this episode before! Goldfish do in fact have a memory longer than 3 seconds, myth busted.”

“But there’s nothing else on! 900 channels, and this is all I got!” He retorts, throwing his hands up in protest.

You feel a sudden cold gust, and your hair flutters around your face. You tilt your head back to find Pietro staring at you both, an indescribable look on his face.

“What’s up, rocket?” You flash an upside down grin at him.

“I was, uh.” He pauses, suddenly looking unsure of himself. “I was seeing if you wanted to watch a movie, maybe? I didn’t know you were busy though, I’ll just go find Wan-“

“No, no!” You interject quickly. “That’d be nice, besides Sam is being rude, mean and boring.” You give him another nudge with your foot before standing up on the couch, clamouring over the arm to join Pietro.

“Well see now, that’s just rude. I am merely trying to expand my field on knowledge.” He replies, tilting his head back to look pointedly at you.

“Yeah, gotta know those giant killer goldfish we’re always fighting WILL in fact remember how to dodge a bullet.”

“Hey, we’ve seen weirder.” Sam shrugs, before turning back towards the TV.

Pietro watches the entire exchange with a befuddled look on his face. You should probably explain that you won’t be fighting giant killer goldfish anytime soon. Probably.

“C’mon.” You grab Pietro’s hand, and drag him away from the sofas. “If we’re watching movies, I want snacks. Besides Tony finally gave me better speakers in my room, so we can watch a movie there.”

When you reach the kitchen, Bruce is grabbing a drink from the fridge, giving you both a friendly wave as he makes his way back to the lab.

There’s a lull as Pietro leans against the centre island, watching you rummage through the cupboards, before he breaks the silence.

“It’s a,” He stumbles on his words. “It’s nice, you and Sam. Nice to have somebody, no?” He smiles, looking more pained than anything.

You halt your search to turn around and look at him, a frown on your face.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Pietro ducks his head bashfully, the tips of his ears turning a gentle pink.

“I just thought, we used to spend a lot of time together, no? Then suddenly every time I see you, you’re cuddled up with Sam, and I just thought.” He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, cutting himself off before he can say anymore.

“Well, yeah.” You laugh not unkindly. “Because Steve is trying to whip your butt into shape, so you’re not here as much, and it turns out me and Sam enjoy the same trashy TV.”

You pause as something clicks, and then you’re laughing, crossing the room towards him.

“Oh my god! Pietro! Wait a minute.” He steps back as you approach, stopping only when his back hits the counter. “Are you jealous?”

“I, no! I just thought, you’re very affectionate with him, is all!” His voice speaks of denial, but the red hot blush creeping down his neck says otherwise.

“Don’t worry, dragă dulce.” You grin up at him, your fingers tangling into the hairs at the nape of his neck, relishing in his sharp inhale of breath. “Sam isn’t the person I just invited into my dimly lit bedroom now, is he?"


	2. "Kiss me"

The party is in full swing, and Pietro is feeling completely out of his depth.

Stark has many friends in many places, but it seems tonight they’re all gathered in the tower.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably, Pietro laments once again why he had to dress up considering he didn’t want to be here in the first place, but it turns out it’s pretty hard to escape a party when it’s partly in your honour.

Stood against the back wall, he searches the room for team members he can sidle on up to considering Wanda left him here with the words “Honestly,  _frate mai mic,_ make some friends! If we can trust our lives to these people, I’m pretty sure we can socialise with them.” And then with a flutter of her red gown, she was gone.

Scanning the room, he spots Steve and Sam on the sofas in the middle of the room, Pietro debates it, but the women sat with them makes him feel like his presence wouldn’t be particularly welcome. Bruce and Natasha are chatting at the side bar – no way is he going over there.

Pietro really needs to find Thor and that magic hipflask, he’s way too sober for this.

* * *

 

You’re currently cornered against the bar whilst Major McI’mSoGreat chats your ear off about how integral he was to Air Force’s latest mission, all the while his hands getting uncomfortably close to your rear end, regardless of how many times you slap them away. As if the conversation wasn’t tiring enough.

Your eyes are desperately scanning the room for an escape route. Steve and Sam are looking WAY too busy, and the only other people you can see are Bruce and Natasha and no way are you going over there.

“So what do you say we get out of here, you’ve got a room here right?” The Major propping his arm against the pillar next to you, blocking you in.

“I have a boyfriend, so no thanks.” You smile awkwardly, trying to push past him.

“That’s not what the papers say. C’mon then, how about just a little kiss, he doesn’t have to know.” He’s crooning into your ear, and seriously, who gave this guy a medal?

That’s when you spot Pietro stood alone, tugging uncomfortably at his collar. You absently realise his shirt matches your dress perfectly. You finish your flute of prosecco in one gulp, before placing the glass down on the bar and turn on your most charming smile.

“Actually, I can see him right over there. If you’ll excuse me.” You smile at the Major, before darting underneath his arm.

“Hey, no! Wait! What about that little kiss?” You hear him call after you, his following footsteps heavy on the glass floor as you make a beeline towards Pietro.

* * *

Pietro’s scanning the room when he sees ____ break through the crowd, looking almost ethereal in her blue floor length gown. It takes him a couple of seconds to realise that she’s walking straight towards him.

“He-“ Pietro’s greeting is cut short as she skips down the glass step and throws herself into his arms, one hand on the back of his neck and her breath warm in his ear

“I’m really sorry about this, but I’m gonna have to ask you to pretend to be my boyfriend and kiss me.” She speaks low and quick into his ear, as Pietro spots a man over her shoulder staring at them both, an angry look in his eye.

Then Pietro finds himself nose to nose with her before his brain fully processes what she’s just said to him.

“Wait, what?” His brow furrows as he searches her face for an answer, his hands settling low on her back.

“Kiss me.”

Before he can say another word there’s fingers tangling in his hair and soft lips against his own. The whole party dims around them, all he can hear is the sounds of their breathing and he’s pretty sure somebody just set off a catherine wheel in his stomach. He feels his hands move of their own accord, bringing her even closer to him, before she finally breaks away from the kiss.

There’s a beat, and then she’s ducking her head bashfully, a blush rising high upon her cheeks.

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he feels his breath catch in his throat.

“I feel like I’m missing something here.” Pietro murmurs softly.

She smiles wide and the blush has spread all the way to her ears now.

“I could tell you the full story, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep kissing you.”

Pietro grins, nuzzling their noses together.

“I think I can agree with that compromise.”


	3. "I think I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified." aka the Montreal Fic.

“Pietro, wait!” You call after him, but he’s already lost in the wind, a silver streak. “I am not wearing the right kind of shoes for this kind of crap.” You mutter darkly, before you’re sprinting too, his silver air quickly replaced by your gold.

You’re way past Albany before you can see him start to slow down, tearing through empty fields. You’ve been running on pure frustration for the past 2 minutes, but you’re not playing nice, not now. His contrail is getting shorter and shorter the slower he gets, merely a glimmer of silver in front of your eyes now.

You narrow your eyes and push for just one last second, then you’re neck and neck, then there’s a deafening boom as you launch yourself at him.

You’re both spinning faster than you care to know, soil and grass ripped up around you as you bounce along the ground, before eventually skidding to a halt.

The force of the fall means you’re lying on top of him now, and he’s looking less than pleased.

“What.” He’s struggling to get his words out, completely winded. “The hell. Was that?”

You push yourself up using his chest as leverage, making him groan, before settling on his hipbones.

“That was a physical manifestation of my rage towards you, Pietro, what do you think it was?” You snap at him, dusting loose soil off of your dress. “And you know what? I literally JUST got this back from the dry-cleaners, I’m billing this to you.”

He leans up onto his elbows and looks at you like he can’t even believe you’re real.

“I literally can’t believe you’re even real.”

Whoomp, there it is.

“Darling, I’m flattered, but I’m sorry to tell you that I am in fact currently straddling you as we lay in an empty field we just entirely ripped up, and we’re definitely having landscaping costs taken out of our salary. Would you like me to pinch you?”

“You’re absolutely insufferable.” He groans, letting himself fall back flat against the ground, as you shuffle back to sit on his thighs instead.

“Hmm, maybe.” You reply. “But I’m cute, so I get away with it pretty easily.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re not getting away with this so easily.” Pietro mumbles, his forearm draped over his eyes. “The Bugle’s chopper has to be inbound, no? We did just tear through Manhattan.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I tore through it, not  _through_  it. Besides, The Bugle? How far do you think you got before I caught up? We’re nearer Montreal than home right now. In fact, we might even be past the border by now. Which is an issue, because I don’t think I have my passport right now.” You huff, pulling Pietro’s arm away from his face. “What’s this all about anyway?”

“What’s all what about?”

“Um. No!” You exclaim incredulously. “You don’t get to ignore me, shut me down for a week, then run away at Mach 2 to then feign ignorance, that isn’t how this works!”

There’s a moment where he just stares at you, like he’s flipping through a dictionary in his head, trying to piece together his words.

I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified that I can’t keep up.”

“You tried to outrun me to prove to yourself you can’t keep up with me?” You raise your eyebrows at him “What kind of logic is that?”

Pietro’s entire face clouds with confusion. “Wait a second, I tell you I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, and that’s your response?”

“Well, yeah. “ You reply, confused, before realising what’s going on. “Wait a minute, did you think you were being subtle?”

“I’m. Well I mea-“ Pietro’s wide eyed now, stuttering over his words, a blush high on his cheeks, sitting up completely now so you’re finally face to face.

“Literally everyone in the tower can see it Pietro.” You cut him off, running your finger down his arm, before lacing your fingers together. “Which is why I’m finding the whole “think” part of your sentence pretty rude, considering everyone in the tower, apart from you apparently, can see how much I love you back.”

Pietro looks like a deer in headlights, letting out a soft “oh.” of surprise.

“Yeah, Oh. You jackass.” You stick your tongue out at him, pushing his shoulder, before hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

You sit there in silence for a while, wrapped around each other, and covered in dirt.

“I’m sorry for the whole. Causing a sonic boom and nearly killing us thing, by the way.” You mumble into his neck. “I guess I can kinda understand the whole being terrified of me, in that aspect.”

“____. That’s.” Pietro sighs, gently pressing at your shoulders until you sit up and face him. “You know that’s not what I meant.” There’s a pause. “….right?”

“I know.” You smile sadly at him, before finally standing up, your boots sinking into the soft overturned soil, making you stumble. You turn round to help him up, but he’s already stood at your side, and warmth blooms in your chest at the hope that’s something you’ll be able to rely on for the rest of your life.

“C’mon.” you murmur, holding out your hand, wiggling your fingers in invitation. “Let’s go home. Whatever speed you like.”


	4. "I thought you were dead."

You’re still not sure when everything got so hectic. You and Rhodey are on civilian duty, he finds them, and you get them out.

You’ve just handed off a little girl to her sobbing father, Natasha and Steve getting the civilians further away from the city before the second wave hits.

Sprinting back to the city, you can’t help but feel like the entire sky is falling. The whine of the Stark/Rhodes blasters, the hail of Sam’s bullets, Wanda’s hexes, and fire. So much fire.

You haven’t seen blue in so long.

-

You’re given your priorities when you’re still on the jet. “Speedsters are on civilian duty!” Tony barks to the jet. “Rhodes, Wilson, pick a side. You’re their eyes, they’re your feet.”

You’re not even sure what these things are, you’ll let these others worry about it.

There’s a gentle hand on your hip and then Pietro’s mouth is at your ear.

“What’s the plan?”

“Wait for me near the town square fountain when you’re finished, and we can do a final sweep together.”

“What makes you think I’ll finish first?”

“Hmmm.” A suggestive smirk on your face. “You normally do.”

You feel him puff his chest out in pride as you pass him to join Rhodey on the boarding ramp, then make a noise of offence as he understands what you meant.

“Hey, that’s not fa-“ He begins to protest, a pout on his face as he turns around.

You’re locking Rhodey’s arm around you as the bay doors open, Sam entangling his arm with Pietro’s.

“Remember!” You shout over the wind noise. “Wait at the fountain,  _Quick_ silver!”

And then all four of you are out, you watch Sam dive immediately, grip firm on Pietro’s arm. Then his feet touch the ground, and he’s gone in a flash of blue, Sam speeding after him from the air.

Then Rhodey’s voice is in your ear. “Okay, you ready?” The ground gets closer and closer until you’re mere feet away from the ground. “Go get ‘em, Glimmer.” And your feet touch earth and you’re gone.

-

You’re walking at a regular speed, doing your final sweep of this part of town, when you hear the terrifying scream of pain, the kind that makes your blood run cold, from two streets over. You’re sprinting in an instant and soon find the source of the sounds.

it’s Wanda, on her knees in the middle of the town square, the sky blood red around her. You’re at her side without hesitation, and she flies into a flurry when she sees you.

“Oh god, it felt like…” She trails off with a panicked babble, clutching at the lapel of your jacket, before finally focusing terrified, grief stricken eyes with yours. “Find him.”

You frown at her, then feel your heart rise up into your throat as you realise what she’s saying.

You turn away from her, your hand on your comms in a second.

“Pietro? Are you there?” There’s radio silence.

“Has anyone seen Pietro?” You try again, desperation clawing at your voice, up your throat, over your tongue. “Sam, did you clear the sector? Where’s Pietro?” There’s still no response.

With one last look at Wanda, you’re off, speeding towards their zone.

The streets are devoid of life, and the air is almost completely still.

You’re circling yourself so fast, you’re catching up with your own contrail, paving the streets in gold.

You’re yelling his name so loud your voice is hoarse and cracking.

Then you hear it.

Crying.

Not the type you’re currently partaking in.

It’s terrified, screaming of confusion and fear. There’s a baby here somewhere.

It doesn’t take long to find it, there’s an apartment complex on the corner of the street, half crumbling, but the door has been wrenched wide open.

You’re sprinting up the stairs, the crying getting closer and closer, throwing open the door to the third floor corridor, you stop dead in your tracks.

Half of the roof has caved in in this part of the building, a bookcase from an apartment above is trapped between the wall and rubble, blocking your access to the doors at the end of the corridor.

That’s when you spot it, the flash of white amongst the bricks.

You’re scrabbling over concrete and destroyed belongings, calling his name.

That’s how you find him, covered in dust and propped against the wall, blood dripping from a gash on his hairline, his eyes closed.

“Hey.” You’re at his side, in a flash, hands cupped his face. “Pietro, hey. Wake up!”

There’s no response.

“C’mon, sweetheart!” You slap at his cheeks gently in encouragement, raising your voice slightly. “Open your eyes, c’mon, wake up!”

Still nothing.

“Hey.” Your voice cracks, as the tears begin to fall. “C’mon now, don’t do this to me, wake up! WAKE. UP.”

And so you slap him.

There’s a soft groan, and a twitch of fingers.

“I really need to get Tony to invent some sort of snooze button for you.” He grumbles quietly, blearily opening his eyes.

There’s a moment where you try get your breath back, whilst keeping your breakfast down.

“This doesn’t look like the fountain, you jackass.”

“Ah, this? Is nothing.” He tries to smile, but it’s pained. “Figured I should take a break, let you catch up, yes?”

You try to smile back, but you can’t even muster it.

“I thought you were dead.”

He gives you a weary smile, which you think is supposed to be a smirk. “I’m too quick for that, no?” He seems to remember something all of a sudden, as his eyes snap open fully. “Where’s the boy? Is he safe?”

It’s only then you become aware that there’s still a child crying, and it’s coming from the room right next to you. Standing up, you poke squeeze yourself underneath a toppled over cabinet and enter the apartment.

There’s a little boy sat up in a crib set up in the living room. He’s no older than two, a shock of pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. Crying his lungs out, but otherwise fine. You turn back to help Pietro first, but when you turn around he’s already stood, motioning for you to pass the boy through the gap.

“Hey, sweet boy.” You croon to him, his chubby fingers extending towards you as you pick him up. “Let’s get you back to papa, huh?”

You pass the boy through the gap, Pietro settling the boy on his hip for a moment, as you climb back through to them.

There’s no way you can carry the boy and support Pietro’s unsteady frame, and that’s how the world’s two fastest people find themselves making through the slow walk back through rubble littered streets.

When Wanda sees you both emerge from the dusty air and into the fountain square, carrying that little blonde boy between you, she can’t tell if she’s seeing ghosts or visions.


	5. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

“Remind me to tell Maria never to assign you to any undercover assignments.” You call out into the seemingly empty living room, your nose still buried in your book. “I know you’re there, Pietro.”

A flash of white hair pokes around a pillar, followed by an indignant face.

“I don’t know what you mean, I literally just ran in.” He huffs, jogging down the steps to join you on the sofas.

“Hmmm, sure.” You reply, looking away from your book to shoot him a knowing look. “If by just ran in you mean have been creeping around the sofa area for 2 and a half minutes, then sure.”

Pietro sprawls out on the couch next to you, legs splayed over the end arm, his head coming to rest against your bicep.

“Whatcha readin’?”

You look down at him before pretending to look at the cover.

“How to Murder and Dispose of European Speedsters without Getting Caught.”

“Huh. Interesting topic.” He quips. “Who wrote it?”

“Natasha Romanoff.

“Makes sense.”

He slides his head from your arm to your lap in one quick movement, smirking up at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You deadpan in response. “Are you quite done fidgeting now?” You huff, arranging your arms to get comfortable again, but not before digging an elbow into his sternum.

“Hmmm, maybe.” He hums, rubbing his chest

“What do you want with me anyway?” You question, trying to find your place again in your book.

“What makes you think I want anything?” He says, his foot tapping out a rhythm on the arm of the couch “

“Because I know what you’re like, and you always want something.”

He smirks up at you “You’re very observant of me, no?”

“I’m observant of everything.” You respond, looking down at him to raise your eyebrows. “There’s a lot of things to see in this tower.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He questions, a puzzled look on his face.

“It means I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

His face turns a colour that would give Vision a run for his money.

“I don’t!” He exclaims in protest. “I don’t look at you! Why would I look? Is nothing to see.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“There was apparently a reason enough to spend 2 and a half minutes watching me read and then thirty seconds later be cuddling yourself into my lap, but whatever you say, Pietro.”

He licks at his lips nervously, looking defeated. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” Is what he says, but the blush on his face tells another story.

You hum noncommittally but card your fingers through his hair gently, making him smile and lean into your touch.

“If you promise to be quiet and let me finish my book, I’ll let you stay. Deal?” You smile down at him.

“Deal.”


	6. "I almost lost you." "Don't ever do that again." aka the Croatia Fic

You and Pietro are on civilian duty, getting the people out, whilst the rest of the team works on suppressing the fires that have taken hold of the town.

You’ve both just finished clearing a building directing people to the safe zone when there’s a shattering of glass and audible screams from the street over, cutting through the smoky air like a siren. Pietro shoots you a nervous glance before you both take off running.

The building is completely ablaze, the windows blown out, fire licking up the outside walls.

You’re just pushing the crowd back away from the building, but a woman grabs you by the shoulders her eyes wide in terror. She’s babbling in a language you don’t understand, pointing frantically up at the building and when you turn around you see her. The little girl hanging out of the window.

“Pietro!” You yell at him, pointing up to the girl.

You see him look up, the cogs turning in his head as he spots the girl.

Suddenly the windows of the room next to her blow out, a fireball blasting out of the window. Your brain processes Pietro begin to turn back to the crowd.

“Fine!” You yell. “I’ll do it myself!”

“NO! WAIT! It’s too dangerous!” He tries to grab your arm but he’s too slow, screaming after you, panic and desperation evident in his voice, but you’re not about to watch this girl die.

You’re in the apartment in a flash, scooping her up into your arms.

It’s when you turn away from the window you spot the wheelchair and the oxygen tanks stacked next to it.

And your day had been going so well up until now.

* * *

 

You get out with seconds to spare, the tanks blowing high into the sky.

As soon as you’re out, the little girl is scrabbling out of your arms and running towards the woman who looks at your with a level of gratitude you can’t even comprehend.

Pietro’s at your side immediately, an indescribable look on his face.

“C’mon, champ.” You lean into Pietro heavily, close to coughing your lungs up, before patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

Pietro sits on his own in the Jet that journey.

* * *

 

You’re in the gym that night working on a punching bag when you hear him enter.

He’s been avoiding you for hours. As soon as your feet hit the boarding ramp on the Quinjet he hasn’t even made eye contact with you, and it’s completely insufferable.

He stands there in silence for a few moments, just watching you. The room silent for the jangling of the bags chains.

“Are you just gonna stand there all night, or are you gonna talk to me?” You huff out, delivering a final kick to the bag before turning to face him.

“What you did today was really stupid. Don’t you ever do that again.” His voice is quiet, and you can hear the anger laced within.

“What?” You let yourself laugh. “Saving kids is stupid now?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yes it was.” You counter, throwing your gloves to the ground.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?!” He suddenly cries in exasperation, marching over to you. “I told you that it was dangerous and you still did it!”

“And I’m okay aren’t I?!” You retort, just as frustrated. “I know how to do my job, Pietro! You’re my boyfriend, not my babysitter!”

“The building was on FIRE!”

“And there was somebody in THERE!” You yell back, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation. “There was somebody in there and I saved them, because that’s our JOB.”

“And you were running at a high speed? HELLO?! Earth to ____!?! Oxygen feeds fire?” He’s trying to crowd into your space, but you push him away.

“And fire kills people, and someone was still in that building!” You snap back. “This is what we signed up for, Pietro!”

“I didn’t sign up for watching you get yourself killed! I almost lost you today!” He counters angrily.

“You need to get your head out of your ass and realise our relationship does not mean you get to tell me how to do my job!” You’re yelling at him now. “Just because we’re together doesn’t mean I have to listen to you all the time!”

“Well maybe we shouldn’t be then!” He yells back, his face twisted in anger.

You take a step backwards, as if his words are a physical force, making you stumble.

His face falls, and he goes to take a step towards you, but you push him away.

“Well fine!” You yell through the ringing in your ears. “If that’s how you really feel, then so be it!”

And before he can say another word you’re gone, leaving behind nothing but shimmering air.

 


	7. "Come over here and make me."

Pietro’s lying on the sofa when you walk into the living quarters, tapping out a text at lightning speed, a bashful smile on his face.

So obviously you’re curious.

He’s barely felt the ruffle in his hair when you’re already on the upside down on the sofa opposite him, legs hooked over the back, head hanging off the edge.

Pietro frowns at his empty hands, before letting his head flop to the side. “Hey!”

“S’up, dude.” You deadpan. “So who’s the girl? Wanda seems to think you should go for it, judging by these last couple of texts.”

You start to scroll up to the earlier messages in their conversation, and he’s on his feet in a split second, grabbing for the phone with a panicked noise.

“WAIT! Pietro! No!” You stop your scrolling to fix him with the most serious look you can muster whilst you’re upside down.

He stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s something very important you don’t understand in this situation, Pietro.” You say gravely.

He pauses for a moment, a look on his face you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Such as?”

“I’m very _very_ nosy!” You laugh and you’re sprinting through the hallways, and he’s hot on your tail, your delighted shrieks and laughter echoing around the tower.

You take a turn too wide and slide into the wall at a T junction, and he slides into you, plastering himself to your back, grabbing for the phone as you curl into a ball around it, cackling as you both sink to the floor.

“Give it back!” He whines, scrabbling at your hands. “Is not funny!”

“It totally IS funny!” You wriggle out of his grasp, kicking the back of his knee and laughing harder as he wobbles and nearly falls and then you take off running again.

You lose him for a moment as he recovers from the fall but you take a wrong turn at some point (seriously why is this building so big?!), and realise you’re at a dead end.

Pietro slides into view at the end of the corridor behind you, his shirt completely rumpled and a dazed look on his face.

“Give it back!” He whines again, walking towards you, arms outstretched in exasperation.

“No, shan’t.”

“_____.” Pietro whines.

“Pietroooo.” You whine back.

“Give me back my phone.” He deadpans.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me?”

You yelp as his body hits yours and slams you against the wall behind you, there’s an arm around your waist, and your legs locked around his hips. But you’re still quicker than he is.

“Oh!” You gasp in surprise. “Well I mean, normally a fella’s gotta buy me dinner before I find myself in this position.” You smirk down at him, a hand coming down to rest on the back of his neck.

“Can I please just have my phone back now?” He pouts, holding out a hand expectantly

You try to unhook your legs, but his hips press you more firmly into the wall. You show off your free empty hand, shrugging a shoulder.

“Wait. Where did you put it?” Pietro looks at the empty hand front of his face, processing the presence of the one on his back.

You glance down at your own chest, a triumphant grin on your face.

“You didn’t.”

“Well, they’re not normally this square, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You deadpan, arching your back for emphasis, hooking your other hand behind his neck in an effort to maintain your balance.

“So I’m not getting my phone back then?” He huffs.

“Weeeeeell.” You stretch out the word, a thoughtful look on your face. “My general rule of thumb here is after the aforementioned dinner date, the kiss has gotta be at least a 9/10, and preferably buy me a daiquiri or two. So maybe, if you play your cards right. I mean. Maybe. Oh, and the dude has to wear a shirt. Nice hair helps too.”

He looks puzzled, looking at the floor, then back at you. “But I don’t have a shirt.”

“Ohh.” You croon to him sympathetically. “Then you don’t have a phone.”


	8. "I might be drunk."

“Do you..” You break off into giggles, burying your face into Pietro’s shoulder as you stumble back to your room. “Do you even just look at Thor and think. Dude. You’re an alien.”

Pietro laughs wrapping his arm around you tighter, nuzzling his nose into your hair, and pressing an exaggerated smooch there.

“He’s not an alien, he’s a God. Is different, apparently.”

“But he comes from  _space!”_

“Alien god? Too many weird things here, I cannot keep up.”

He frowns for a moment as you both stagger past the sofas, before voicing his concern.

“Are we aliens?”

“No, we’re mutants, it’s totally different.” You laugh, smacking him lightly in the chest.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Pietro, I’m sure.”

“No but like…are you really sure?”

“Oh my god, you’re so drunk.” You laugh, stumbling slightly. “You’re a lightweight!”

“No, you are!” He protests, his voice echoing down the corridor.

“No. You are absolutely a lightweight!”

“I’m your lightweight.”

“I feel like you thought that was cute, but it really wasn’t.”

Behind you, the ding of the elevator signals everyone else has finally caught up, just in time to see you slip out of Pietro’s grasp and onto the floor, cackling maniacally.

“Jesus Christ, this is amazing.” Clint laughs, shaking his head in disbelief as they all spill into the living area. “It was funny in the bar, but this is something else.”

“To be fair, this is Thor’s fault.” Natasha pipes up, dropping her bag on the sofa. “They were perfectly happy with their whiskey but noooo, let’s give the kids asgardian liquor. Great idea, guys! You guys made the problem, you fix it. I’m going to bed!” She calls over her shoulder, helping Pietro lean against the wall before she disappears around the corner.

“Alright kids.” Bruce sighs in exasperation, holding out his hands to help you up. “Considering you’re both so fast will you  _hurry_  up and go to bed?”

You lean up on your elbows and fix Bruce with a very serious stare.

“Bruce.”

“Yes?”

“I think I might be drunk."  And then you and Pietro are giggling all over again as Bruce rolls his eyes, hauling you off of the floor.

Thor shoots Steve an amused glance, jogging over to where Pietro is slowly sliding down the wall, before slinging one of Pietro’s arms over his shoulders, and beginning the journey to the sleeping quarters, Bruce and yourself not far behind.

“So, are you like.” Pietro pauses thoughtfully. “an alien, or a god, or an alien god? Or wait, are you a god alien?”

“We’ve had this conversation many a time.” Thor’s says with a chuckle. “I am from Asgard.”

“Yes, but what does that  _mean_?!”

But before Thor can answer, Pietro is unhooking his arm and sprinting for the bedroom door, but he’s too fast for the sensor to react, and his face hits the door with a clang and a muffled “ow.” and the Asgardian can only shake his head in amused exasperation.

The door slides open and the darkness is a comfort to Pietro’s tired eyes. He flops down onto his back on the bed, closing his eyes. He can hear you outside assuring Bruce and Thor you’ll be fine, and wishing them goodnight.

The door slides open and he can hear you giggle and the  _thump thump_  as you kick off your shoes and creep over to the bed.

Then you’re clambouring onto his lap with a laugh, his hands on your hips immediately, as you lean down to kiss him and miss.

“Hello, Sailor.” You murmur into his ear, and he can feel your smirk against his cheek as you slowly slide off of him to lie down.

“Was that a joke about how unsteady I am on my feet?” He laughs as you wriggle out of your dress, launching it in the direction of the laundry basket, and climb under the covers.

“That was not the intention, but yes, if you like.” You laugh as he strips off his shirt, getting stuck somewhere halfway, admitting defeat and letting you help him.

It takes a lot of giggling and fidgeting before it’s finally quiet and you’re tangled up together in bed, and Pietro can feel himself slipping into the gentle lull of sleep when there’s a quiet “Babe? You asleep?”

He hums quietly to let you know he’s still listening.

“Okay, so seriously though. Do we agree that Thor is totally an alien?”


	9. "Stop staring at me." "You look so beautiful."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly! A surprise character!

Pietro jogs down the stairs, careful not to slip on the glass in his dress shoes.

“Sorry, sorry! I lost track of time!” He announces to the crowd of people gathered on the sofas, as he joins his sister at the bottom of the stairs.

Everybody’s in their finest clothes ready for the evening ahead. The Stark Relief Foundation is holding a benefit to help raise funds to complete the restoration of Hell’s Kitchen, and the Avengers are the honoured guests to drum up support. (The amount of rich people who’ll pay to rub shoulders with superheroes is pretty astounding, honestly.)

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Bruce looks at his watch. “You’re still not the last one ready.”

Tony walks out of the kitchen readjusting his tie. “Seriously? How is it the two FASTEST people in this house are also the slowest? Anyone wanna let me in on that secret?”

“She was nearly ready when I checked ten minutes ago.” Wanda pipes up. “She was putting her shoes on.”

“Right then, everyone get in the cars. They’re staggering us out, two to a car. Cap, you’re with Romanoff, Wilson you’re with Witchy, and Rhodey you’re with me. Iron boys are rolling in together tonight. Everyone else, I don’t care.” Tony announces clapping his hands together as everyone piles past him into the elevator. He suddenly seems to remember something & turns to point at Pietro. “Oh! Speedy you’re with Shimmer…Glimmer? …..other speedy. You guys are in the second to last car, so hurry up. And for the love of god, tell her she really needs to decide on a name already.”

Pietro shoves his hands in his pockets as he watches the others make their way to the garage.

Aimlessly wandering over to the kitchen he’s debating if there’s time for a quick last minute snack when there’s a faint  _click clack_ sound approaching at the top of the staircase.

Walking back over to the sofas, he looks up to the top of the steps.

And he just stares.

You’re an absolute vision in blue. Your floor length dress swishes around your feet, as if you’re gliding, as you make your descent. The deep V of the front is offset by the black faux fur bolero you’re wearing to counteract the October chill, and your hair is curled and piled on top of your head in a way that looks both effortless but also probably took hours.

And then you’re stood in front of him, with a frown.

“Do I have something on my face?” You ask with a slight tilt of your head.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He apologises bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“So are you my Tony appointed prom date then, champ?” You laugh, adjusting his bow tie, which happens to match your dress perfectly.

“Well, Wanda picked this out for me, so I think this one is on her.” He smiles sheepishly, before offering you his arm.  “Shall we?”

“Well this must be the first time in your life you’ve ever been a gentleman.” You tease, a grin on your face as you both step into the elevator.

“Yeah, well. I’m full of surprises.”

* * *

Your car has finally crept up to the front of queue and you’re just waiting for Sam and Wanda to clear the carpet, and it’s your turn.

Next to you Pietro’s leg is jiggling at such a rapid pace you’re surprised he hasn’t burnt a hole through to the road.

You place a hand on his leg, and the shaking immediately stops, as he looks at you nervously.

“Can we not just run past them?” Pietro pleads, assessing the crowds outside of his window.

“Considering how long your sister spent helping me curl the back of my hair, I think she may kill us both if I messed it up.” You squeeze his thigh gently. “and for the love of god, Maximoff. Don’t you even dare think about leaving me on this red carpet alone, or I will kill you while you sleep.”

“Who, me?” Pietro grins at you. “I could never be one to abandon a pretty lady in her hour of need.”

“You’re such a creep sometimes.” You frown, pinching his thigh.

Then the car door opens, and the flashbulbs are blinding, but he’s holding out his hand for you.

“Let’s go get ‘em, tiger.”

* * *

Your bolero is thrown over a chair somewhere, and you’re fuzzy from the free champagne, laughing loudly as the man you’re dancing with sets up a rhythm much faster than the song that’s playing.

“I’m so glad I’m not the only person here who thinks this whole music arrangement is completely boring.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes you just have to do your own thing.” He chuckles lowly.

“I’m glad!” You exclaim, an affectionate pat to his shoulder. “I don’t think I could deal with yet another stuffy council member stepping on my feet.”

“Well I hope I’ve provided a welcome break for you tonight.” He grins. “Would you care for one more song, or should I let you get back to your boyfriend?”

“What do you mean?” You frown. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” He makes a nonplussed face. “My colleague seems to think differently. Something about you and someone making the eyes at you in all of the paparazzi pictures. The white haired one, I think?”

“What about the white haired one?” Comes a voice from slightly behind you, and you turn around in your partner’s arms to see Pietro standing there.

“Oh! Hey!” You smile. “Nothing much, we were just rating the team’s outfits on a 1 to 10 scale. Weren’t we, Matt?”

“Yeah, that’s right! Looking sharp, man! ….Apparently anyway.” He laughs, readjusting his glasses. “I’m sorry, were you wanting to cut in?”

“Yeah, I was hoping to, if neither of you mind, of course.” Matt shakes his head, and you place your hand on Pietro’s arm as a ‘just a moment’ gesture.

You lean in to Matt, a gentle hand on the back of his neck, as you whisper into his ear.

“For the record, your red-headed friend is totally making the eyes at you.” You beckon her over with a smile and a crook of your finger, and she’s scurrying over as you lean in to kiss Matt on the cheek. “It was lovely to meet you, darling, thank you for the rescue.” And then his companion is at his side, her hand on his arm. “Dance! Enjoy the food! Get very drunk! That’s what I’m planning on doing!” You laugh and then Pietro is leading you into the middle of the dancefloor, politely waving goodbye to the pair.

Pietro stops in the midst of the crowd and uses his grip on your hand to spin you towards himself, wrapping a firm arm around your waist, holding you close.

“Having fun?” He murmurs quietly.

“Hmm, I suppose, I mean it is a free bar.” You smirk at him. “I’ve been making panic SOS eyes at you all night! But literally the first guy under the age of 50 to ask me to dance, and you appear out of nowhere. Worst teammate ever, do not recommend.”

“I could say the same thing!” He shoots back with a laugh. “At least the people you were dancing with weren’t digging their talons into your shoulder.”

You roll your eyes at him before letting go of his hand, readjusting his skewed bowtie.

“There.” You hum happily, looping your arms around his neck. “That’s been bugging me all night.”

You look up and he’s staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Pietro?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Pietro, stop staring at me.”

“You look so beautiful.” He whispers suddenly, before looking away bashfully, the tips of his ears lighting up a bright pink.

You bite your lip, but it doesn’t stop your smile. All you can do is hide your rapidly reddening face in the crook of his neck as he leans his head on yours.

Over his shoulder, you see Wanda dancing with Tony, she’s looking at you both and shoots you an overenthusiastic thumbs up over Tony’s shoulder, making you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You grin back at her regardless, as you feel Pietro press a gentle kiss near your ear.

The white haired one making eyes at you, indeed.


	10. White Noise ("I don't wanna lose you.")

Everyone’s gathered on the sofas, Captain’s orders.

You and Wanda are sat next to each other, exchanging nervous glances. Steve rarely calls in a full squad meeting, you can’t even remember the last time everyone went out on a mission together, so this is clearly something serious.

Steve walks in, a folder in his hands, and Wanda’s back straightens and her hand clasps yours tightly in fear.

“Something’s wrong.” She whispers. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

You look at her, then at Steve who throws the folder onto the coffee table. The words “Church of Humanity” emblazoned across the front.

“We got a problem.”

He sighs, looking directly at you and the twins.

“An anti-mutant fringe group has emerged in central Europe. A chapter previously attacked a school here in the states, and it seems some of them got away and reformed. Mutants have been disappearing and turning up two days later with no powers and nothing but memories of electric shocks and needle pricks.”

In the blink of an eye, Pietro is holding the file, flipping through it. He stops when he gets to a series of photographs marked “INSTITUTE.”

Wanda’s grip on you tightens on you so much you think she might break a bone.

“They…” He whispers in horror, looking from photographs, and then back at Steve. “They did this to children?”

Steve says nothing, just breathes deeply, and gives a curt nod. You watch as Pietro’s entire demeanour shifts, and he makes eye contact with you. The look he gives you is unrecognisable.

“The thing is…” Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “The thing is, we can’t do this without you three. We need your speed to get into the building, and we need Wanda for, well, pretty much everything.” He gives you all a small smile. “SHIELD can give us what we need to infiltrate their compound, without you guys, in 96 hours. You don’t have to do this, and everybody will understand if you don’t, and if anyone argues. They’re off the team.”

There’s a beat of silence as everybody digests this information.

“How many are missing?” Rhodey breaks the silence.

“From official registration statistics, there’s been 19 missing persons reports come in, in the last 24 hours. But like I said, that’s just the registered mutants AND the ones who have anyone to report them missing, the actual number we think could be as high as the mid-thirties.”

“I’ll do it.” All three of you seem to answer in perfect unison.

Steve looks at you, and you nod.

“Alright. Suit up, we’ll brief on the jet.”

* * *

You’re walking to gear up when Pietro grabs you, pulling you into an empty storage cupboard. You don’t even have time to react before he’s pressing you against the wall, his hand firm on your upper arm.

“You’re not coming to Europe.”

“Excuse me?” You look at him in utter disbelief.

“You’re not coming to Europe, it’s too dangerous.” He repeats, his face completely impassive.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” You protest. “You’ve seen what they’re doing to people. People like us, Pietro!”

“What happens if you get hurt?” He hisses at you, his grip tightening for a second, before loosening immediately.

“I’ll walk it off.”

“No, that’s not. That’s not an answer.” He exclaims angrily, before his eyes soften. “I don’t want to lose you, okay?”

“You made your choice, Pietro. That choice involves having no say in mine.” You sneer at him, a twinge in your chest as his face falls.

“What if you get killed?”

You fix him with a glare, pulling your arm out of his grasp, wrenching the door open.

“I’ll walk it off.”

* * *

It’s pure confusion when you get there. Almost like they knew you were coming. You and Sam were infiltrating the east entrance, but you’re pinned down by rapid gunfire. You’re in the compound, but the numbers on the file were way off, there’s at least twice the number of them than you thought. Sam’s shouting into his comms for immediate backup. You’re both crouched down low behind cover whilst Sam changes out his clips, you’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike – the perfect decoy.

Sam slots in new magazines and gives you a look. You nod. Then Sam’s up and out of cover, but before he can even take off he’s hit one, two, three times in the chest. He stumbles backwards, and you’re up to catch him and cover him before you can even think as the gunfire ceases.

Except he doesn’t fall, he frowns.

He pulls a small metal disk off of his suit, holding one out, a look of confusion on his face, then he looks at you.

Then you feel the  _tink tink tink_  impact on your side, and it burns like fire, but you don’t understand why. It barely even pierced the skin. You look up at the man who fired it, who grins, shouting “I got it! I got the mutie!”

You mimic Sam’s actions and pull the disk off of your suit. Except that when you bring it in front of your face to examine it, you can’t even see your hand, it’s just a blur.

You look at Sam who’s looking back at you in horror.

Then your legs give out and you can feel yourself running so fast, so very fast but you’re not moving, you’re going so fast. You can’t think, the voice in your head blurs into itself your mind is going so fast and you can’t stop your body moving. You’re vaguely aware of Sam standing over you as your limbs hit the tanks next to you as you and then there’s gunfire. You can’t stop your body convulsing and you feel like you’re drowning, the air around you is gold as if your cells themselves are evaporating into wonderful glittering shimmering dust, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something so beautiful.

You hear a woman scream, a truly blood curdling sound, and the air lights up crimson red. You hear the whine of Stark’s repulsors before the noise in your ears transcends into something you’ve never heard before, a loud constant screeching which fades into white noise. Then.

Silence.

* * *

You can feel a pulling at your side, and it stings like needles and  _burns_ like fire.

You can feel hands under your knees, behind your back, scooping you up. Everything is a bright static haze of white noise, your eyes out of focus, and limbs unresponsive. All you feel is the darkness of the tanker room and your eyes freeze, as colours whirl around you, and then suddenly you’re back at the jet.

All you see is a shadow, there’s hands on your face, and your eyes are frozen open, unblinking and unmoving, staring off into nothingness.

You can feel yourself being shook, your limbs completely limp, like a puppet off of their string. You feel pressure as fingers lace with yours and squeezing. Squeezing harder when you don’t squeeze back. There’s a face hovering above yours, a hand holding yours above your heart, and a hand on your cheek trying you pull your head to look at them, but everything feels so heavy, your head lolling to the side.

The white noise suddenly stops, and you can hear the faint whistle of the wind. Heavy choked off sobs from the figure looming over you.

Then you hear a howl of anguish, born out of pure grief.

The figure leans back, and the dawns first light shines behind their head like a halo. Sun beams hitting silver reflecting into brilliant, pure light, and that’s when you think for sure you’ve died, because you’re looking at an angel.

They lean in close, gentle hands on your face, and you can feel yourself being pulled with every slight movement, like you can’t control your limbs. You finally find the energy to focus your eyes, and you can make out Pietro’s face, and you can hear him frantically muttering to himself (to you?) in Romanian, tears streaming down his face. Then he switches to English, the arm underneath your back pulling you into his lap.

“C’mon sweetheart, come back to me. Please.” He’s sobbing openly now, gentle fingers tracing your face, his mouth wide open as he gasps for air. “ _Please_ , don’t leave me. Please, don’t make me do this without you, Prințesă. Is not funny now,  _please come back._ ”

You can feel a buzzing in your limbs as you regain feeling, but everything feels so heavy, you can’t move and you’re just  _so_  tired. You can feel him shaking you, but you can’t move, your arms swinging like a broken ragdoll at every shift.

He’s pressing kisses in your hairline, whispering again in his mother tongue, words that sound like prayers.

He leans back, and looks into the distance back to the compound. You can see Thor and Steve sprinting towards the jet, mere metres away now.

You can see their faces pale as they take in the sight of him, cradling your limp body in his arms, another anguished  _“please”_ escaping his lips as he strokes a hand through your hair.

You see Steve reach out towards Pietro, trying to pull him away from you, but he lashes out, pushing him away and snarling. “DON’T. She’s not. SHE’S NOT.” Before turning back to you, his voice desperate. “C’mon, Prințesă, wake up. Is _really_  not funny now.”

Steve takes in a ragged breath, running a hand down his face. He places a hand on Thor’s back pushing him out of the jet, unable to watch Pietro in this unspeakably private moment.

You’re fighting against your entire body, desperate to move. You’re trying to move your lips, all you feel is a minute quiver and you’re not making any sound. When suddenly you feel it, like you’re suddenly aware of the oxygen in your lungs, and it feels like you’re drowning in it as you finally find your voice.

You can feel your fingers twitching, and you’re trying so desperately to reach out and touch him, but he’s too far away.

“Ba… _by._ ” You choke on a sob at the end of the word, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down your face into your hair.

He inhales so sharply that he chokes on the air, before making a strangled noise.

“Hey. Heeey.” He croons to you with a choked off sob, stroking your hair back, face hovering over yours. “I’m here, darling. I’m right here.”

And then the dam breaks, and you can’t stop the sobs.

“ _Pietro.”_ You cry out, burning white hot pain in your chest as you try and manoeuvre your heavy, barely responsive limbs to embrace him, grabbing at his arms frantically. He scoops you up, winding your arms around his neck, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers burning hot with sensation as you grab as his hair, desperately pulling him closer to you.

The adrenaline is coursing through your body so hot you feel like you’re on fire, and you can feel your legs shift under you and you’ve  _finally_  got leverage. You’re desperately scrabbling at him, and all you can feel is burning, and he looks at you like he can feel it as well, as if you’re the sun itself.

Then he’s kissing you frantic. It’s like he can’t believe this is real, or that  _you’re_ real. You’re barely even kissing, just pressed together desperately as you both sob out your apologies, forcing them down his throat till they touch his heart.

He’s cradling the back of your head, your face hooking over his shoulder and he babbles through his tears.

“I didn’t mean it, I never meant any of it. I’m so sorry, I was just so  _frightened._ ”

You watch Steve slump to the floor in relief, Thor exhaling heavily, sinking down next to him.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight to try and stop the flow of tears, but it doesn’t work as you fight through your slurred words.

“I love you too, P.  _I love you too.”_


	11. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

It’s the early hours when Pietro finally gets back to the tower. It’d been an easy job, a non-emergency evacuation, but the week has caught up with him and he’s officially worn out. He waves half-heartedly to Clint and Sam as they exit out off of the landing pad, making their way to their own living quarters.

He walks down the corridor, rotating his shoulder trying to ease the ache in it. He scans himself through the door, throwing his keycard and comms gear down on the dresser with a loud clatter. He kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt, flipping on the lights as he steps over to his wardrobe.

Then there’s a quiet groan from the bed.

Pietro yelps before he can stop himself, turning round to see a head emerge from beneath the pillows.

“Could you not come home just a little bit quieter?” You grumble, blearily rubbing a fist into your eye.

Pietro looks at you, his arms outstretched in a disbelieving manner “Wha-. Well, I’m sorry that I expected my own bed to be empty?” He frowns at you for a second, tossing his shirt aside and moving closer to the bed. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

You lean up onto your elbows, looking over your shoulder at him, and the covers slide down your back. All the way down your back. Your bare back.

The room suddenly feels a little bit warmer, Pietro thinks, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Well I  _was_ sleeping until someone  _rudely_ woke me up. Your mattress is so much nicer than mine, by the way. I’m making an official complaint.”

“Okay, so. Is there a reason you’re naked?”

“This is how I sleep!” You pout.

“Okay, let’s try again. Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“I was hoping you were going to be in the bed too?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,  _oh_.” You laugh at him not unkindly. “Besides I’m not  _actually_ naked, I have underwear on.” You wiggle your butt under the sheet for emphasis.

“Ah, see, now you’re just being unfair.”

“You’re just jealous how much better it looks when I do it. I’d know, I’ve seen you drunk.” You smirk over your shoulder.

“Well that I cannot dispute.” He smirks, throwing you a clean shirt, before turning around as you pull it on over your head.

“You seem determined to try and make me out to not be a gentleman, no?” He laughs as he turns back around, making his way back to bed.

“That’s my point, Pietro!” You laugh as he switches the lights back off and clambours onto the mattress, laying down next to where you’re sat cross-legged on top of the covers.

“I don’t…” He frowns. “I don’t think I quite understand.”

You make an exasperated noise, before clambouring on top of him.

“Oh! Well,  _hello_.” He smirks, his hands moving to your hips as you lean over him.

“Okay, listen closely, speedy boy. I am not made of glass, there are no sensibilities that will be offended if you offer me anything other than a kiss. I do not want you to act like a gentleman, I want you to act like Pietro Maximoff aka a person who hasn’t just walked out of a Jane Austen novel. I am not a delicate flower who blushes at the mention of sex and/or intimacy, I am a grown women who is perfectly comfortable with all of these things. We are members of the Avengers Initiative and this right now is me taking initiative, so listen. I don’t want some idealistic superhero Disney prince boyfriend, okay? Do I make myself clear?” You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, his eyes wide, before his face splits into a grin.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you going to kiss me now?”

“Yes,  _ma’am._  “

Then his lips are pressed against yours, the grin still firmly in place as you press yourself closer to him. He slides his arm around your waist and rolls himself over on top of you, pulling away suddenly with a pained hiss.

“Hey, woah, you alright?” You frown, rubbing soothing circles at his collarbone.

He leans his weight off of one arm, rotating the shoulder and hissing loudly again as his elbow becomes perpendicular with his torso.

“My shoulder, I clipped it on something when I was out tonight.” He gives you a small smile. “I can handle it, is no worry.”

“Hey, woah, no.” You press your palms against his chest, wriggling out from beneath him, making him settle back down on the mattress. “I just said I don’t want some idealistic superhero boyfriend. That includes us trying to screw while you’re fighting through the pain of a fucked up shoulder.”

“Do you have to call it screwing?” Pietro wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“Fine then.” You roll your eyes, leaning in close, crooning into his ear. “Making  _luuuuurv_.”

He rolls his eyes back in response, before wrapping his good arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you pull the covers over you both from where they’re scrunched up at the bottom of the bed.

“So, boyfriend, hmm?” He hums quietly, his lips pressed against your forehead.

“You’re the one who kissed me in Portugal, don’t start this game.”

“Ah, but nothing was said of relationship, no?”

“ _Pietro_.”

He smirks, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Good night,  _Prințesă.”_


	12. Silver & Gold (A series of vignettes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right. So this story I was never sure where to place it.   
> Silver & Gold is a series of vignettes throughout Pietro and Glimmer's lives together.  
> Some of the other stories build upon things mentioned in this fic, others merely refer to events mentioned in this.  
> Hope you enjoy!

It starts and ends the same way every other story does.

It ends with a goodbye.

It starts with a hello.

It’s the in-between that’s important.

Except it doesn’t start with a hello.

You’re not quite sure it ever really ends either.

* * *

Like all great love stories, it starts with a “who the hell are you?”

* * *

The first time he kisses you, it’s something born out of sheer relief. You’ve got Wanda’s arm slung over your shoulder as she drags a broken ankle behind her. You’re stumbling under her weight and your own fatigue, and you can feel blood dripping down your forehead, into your eyes. When he spots you both, his face is like he’s seen his very own salvation.

He’s in front of you both in a flash, an arm around your waist holding you up. He’s muttering frantically to Wanda in their mother tongue, but she waves him away, allowing Sam to help her back to the jet. He turns to you and he’s whispering at you to close your eyes and then he’s using his sleeve to wipe away the blood, smearing it across your face and you’re touching his face to try and tell yourself he’s actually real, and that you actually did make it back. He’s got one hand pressing you close to him, the other tangled in your hair where he’s pressing kisses. You can feel his choked off sobs more than you can hear them, then there’s soft lips on your own, and you can taste the salt of your tears, and for a moment you’re not really sure you did make it back.

* * *

The first time you fall into bed with him, it’s not a mistake with the way you slot together like two pieces of a puzzle. The way his skin contrasts against your sheets would make artists cry, and the smile he gives you in the morning, like he’s the happiest man in the world. That smile is like seeing the sun for the first time.

The second time it happens it’s a not a mistake, but you’re both so scared, clinging onto each other so desperately. You’d had his back, but the gauze wrapped around his torso reminds you that you nearly weren’t fast enough and you were so close to sleeping alone that night.

The third time (and technically fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh time) it happens it’s not a mistake. He’s on bed rest whilst the rest of the team is out on duty. You stay in bed, but there’s not much resting.

The fourth time it happens it’s not a mistake. You’re so wrapped up in love and his entire being that you consider it the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life.

So’s the fifth.

So’s the sixth.

* * *

“Do you remember what you said to me in that field in Montreal?”

“I told you I loved you.”

“What else?”

“That I was terrified.”

“What did I say to you?”

“That you were going to bill me for your dry cleaning.”

“Pietro.”

“You said you loved me too.”

“Maybe I should have let you keep running.”

“Maybe you should have.”

* * *

Bruce has insisted on taking your bags to your room, letting you explore the main living area on your own.

You spot somebody in the kitchen and decide it’s a good time as any to make friends. You cross the room in a flash, parking yourself on a stool at the breakfast bar so fast you spin all the way around until you’re facing the fair haired man again.

“Hey!” You greet cheerfully, and you swear the guy jumps at least half a foot in the air.

He looks at you with wide eyes, to your golden contrail running through the doorway, and then back to you.

“Who the hell are  _you_?”

* * *

“Do you…”

“Do I what?”

“Do you ever think about Croatia?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.”

“Not even on our first date?”

“It’s a close second.”

“…..the gym.”

“Hmm?”

“I think about the gym more.”

* * *

The first time you kiss him you’re outside a restaurant in Brooklyn (“Fully enforced avengers discretion policy” Steve promises.) You’re wearing his jacket, and he’s wearing the shirt he bought especially for tonight, warm hands on your waist holding you close. You’re warm and vaguely fuzzy from the daiquiris he bought you, and aware of a passer-by trying and failing to discreetly take out a camera phone, but you don’t care.

He’s all there is, all there was, and all there will be.

* * *

The seventh time it happens it’s a mistake. You’d watched someone die that day and you’d needed so desperately to feel alive and he’d been happy to oblige, in such frantic need of your affection.

* * *

Sam’s dragged everyone to his favourite bar for downtime. He “forgets” to tell you all that it’s actually karaoke night.

6 beers in and Sam and Wanda are up on stage singing their hearts out to some 90s boyband song, laughing more than singing, to raucous cheers from your booth near the stage.

You’re lost in your own thoughts when there’s a voice right in front of you

“Hey Rhodey, can I scoot back in?” Pietro’s back from the bar to find his seat’s been stolen.

“Just go round the other side!” Rhodey laughs, leaning over Bruce’s shoulder to rewatch the video of Steve and Natasha’s duet from earlier in the night.

Pietro shifts over to sit next to you, and you’re suddenly wishing you were on something stronger than cider.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s somebody else on the stage now, and the bar has gone quiet as the opening chords play.

You feel Pietro shift next to you as he recognises the song.

_“Weep for yourself, my man, you’ll never be what is in your heart_

_Weep, little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start”_

You feel tentative fingers reach towards yours under the table.

You look at him, he’s staring straight ahead, but you watch his adams apple shift as he swallows nervously.

He puts his hands on top of yours, and your lace your fingers with his.

That night’s the eighth time.

_“But it was not your fault but mine_

_and it was your heart on the line_

_I really fucked it up this time_

_Didn’t I, my dear?_

* * *

He’s the one who says it first.

You’re stood in the doorway of your bedroom, Wanda is pleading with you to go shopping with her.

“Please?! I found this stuff online, but their nearest store is in Vegas!” She pleads, puppy dog eyes you’ve seen a thousand times on a different face. “We could be there and back in half an hour!”

Then Pietro comes up behind you, clad only in boxers, dragging you back into the room with firm hands on your waist.

“Sorry, sis! My girlfriend and I are kinda busy right now.” He smirks at his sister.

Your door slides shut on Wanda’s exasperated face.

* * *

Then Croatia happens.

* * *

You don’t weep when Bruce tells you that you the bioscanner found something.

You weep in the darkness of your room that night.

You weep for the things that could have been.

You weep for the things that should have been.

* * *

You haven’t spoken in days.

You’ve never seen him look so ill.

* * *

You haven’t spoken in a week.

You’ve never felt so ill.

* * *

You haven’t left your room in 4 and a half days.

You haven’t spoken to him in 17 days.

Your underwear stains red that night.

You weep for the things that could have been.

You weep for the things that should have been.

* * *

You’ve been living at the tower for over 10 days when he finally comes up to you.

“So, are you a mutant or what?”

You look up from your book to see Pietro standing over you, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Well that’s certainly a charming opener.” You smile up at him. “Yes, I am. Is that an issue?”

“No, no!” He flops down on the couch next to you. “I just don’t know what to make of you is all.”

“Is that why you’ve been sneaking about all week, watching me?” You smirk at him.

“I haven’t!” He protests. “I haven’t been watching.”

You give him a knowing look.

“Okay.” He admits bashfully. “But only because you intrigue me.”

“Is that so, Ursula?”

He frowns in confusion, before he gets the joke, rolling his eyes.

“So what about you then?” You shift on the sofa to face him, nudging his knee with your foot. “You born like this too?”

His face shifts uncomfortably before he replies.

“Kinda.”

* * *

The ninth time it happens, you can’t even look him in the eye anymore.

* * *

Your reconciliation is born out of sheer terror and fear like you’ve never felt before.

A new anti-mutant fringe group has emerged in central Europe, there’s stories of people being snatched off the streets, waking up days later outside their homes without a shred of their powers left. All they remember is the burning of electricity and jab of needles.

Steve insists that you and the twins should stay in New York, there’s no way you should be putting forward this sort of risk, but the plan won’t work without you and Pietro. They can’t get in the building otherwise.

Its pure confusion, they have weapons you’ve never seen before and you’re not even sure what they’re firing. You and Sam are crouched behind cover as he reloads, you acting as the perfect distraction. But they already know all your moves, as soon as Sam’s up, before he can even take off he’s hit one, two, three times in the chest. He stumbles backwards, and you’re up to catch him before you can even think.

Except he doesn’t fall, he frowns.

He pulls the disks off of his suit, holding one out, a look of confusion on his face, then he looks at you.

Then you feel the tink tink tink impact on your side, and it burns like fire, but you don’t understand why. It didn’t even pierce the skin.

Except when you pull at one and bring the disc in front of your face to examine it, you can’t even see your hand, it’s just a blur.

You look at Sam who’s looking back at you in horror.

Then your legs give out and you can feel yourself running so fast, so very fast but you’re not moving, you’re going so fast. You can’t think, the voice in your head blurs into white noise your mind is going so fast and you can’t stop your body moving, you’re vaguely aware of Sam standing over you as your limbs hit the tanks next to you as you and then there’s gunfire. You can’t stop your body convulsing and you feel like you’re drowning, the air around you is gold as if your cells themselves are evaporating into wonderful glittering shimmering dust, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something so beautiful.

Until there’s a yanking at your arm and everything stops and you’re choking on oxygen, everything moving so slow you feel like you’re underwater. Gentle hands scooping you up, and then you’re miles away, laying on the boarding ramp of the jet. You can feel hands on your face, on your waist, on you everywhere. Gentle lips pressing into your hairline and tears dripping onto your face. The figure leans back and you see silver hair, the sun shining from behind him.

That day you could swear you saw an angel.

* * *

You tell him about the 17th day you never spoke.

He sleeps with his head on your stomach that night.

He weeps for the things that could have been.

He weeps for the things that should have been.

* * *

“Do you remember the first time I ever spoke to you?” His head is in your lap as you stroke your fingers through his hair absently.

“Depends on what you class that as?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you referring to ‘who the hell are you?’ or ‘So, are you a mutant or what?’” You side-eye him with a smirk, and his face blooms bright red.

“It sounds so bad when you say it like that.

“It sounded bad when you said it too, genius.” You laugh, tapping him on the forehead with a firm finger.

“Okay then, but when we first met, do you remember?”

“So, we’re going with ‘who the hell are you?’ then?” You smile down at him. “Yeah, I remember. Why?”

“Did you ever see this happening?”

“What? Having to deal with you butting your head into my hands every five minutes like a neglected kitten?”

“Nooo!” He whines loudly, digging his head further into your lap. “This! Us! What did you think of me?”

You make a non-committal sound, before shrugging.

“Pretty cute.”

He grins so wide he could give the Cheshire cat a run for his money. “Y’see I kne-“

“In desperate need of a root touch-up.” You continue, the smirk on your face growing wider.

“Wha-hey!”

“Dressed like an 80s backup dancer.”

“You like that jacket!”

“Pretty solid back up plan if Captain Rogers turned out not to be single.”

“HEY!”

* * *

You’d found him in the kitchen. He’d had a nightmare and had needed a friend, so you stayed.

It’s in the comfort of the darkness he’d finally opened up to you.

You’re sat up in your bed, he’s sat up cross legged with his back to you, staring out of the window when he finally speaks.

“They took us.”

“Who did?”

“Hydra. They-” He pauses to exhale heavily. “They did things to us. Such terrible things.”

This wasn’t the conversation you were expecting tonight.

“What sort of things?” You press your lips together tightly as if trying to stop the question. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” You rest a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay.” He murmurs, covering your hand with his own. “I wanna tell you.”

He pulls your hand up, tugging gently at your arm until you understand what he wants, settling cross legged next to him, and your back to the city.

You can see the lights from outside reflecting in his eyes as he collects his thoughts.

“They took us apart and remade us, from the inside.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “We were miracles, they told us. The lucky ones. The twins! Born with a dormant X-Gene and orphaned as children so nobody would even miss us. Truly the perfect lab rats.”

He looks at you with a sad smile.

“276 days. That’s how long I went without seeing daylight. Without tasting fresh air. I counted every single one of them.” He scoffs, looking up at the ceiling blinking rapidly. “They kept me and Wanda apart too in the end, too scared of us being near each other, of what she’d do if she saw what they’d done to me.”

He roughs up the back of his hair roughly with a cold laugh. You take his hand, and his eyes meet yours briefly as you kiss his knuckles, before tangling your fingers with his and resting them in your lap. He takes a breath before he continues.

“I was their favourite. Here was Wanda, with the most unimaginable powers, and then  _‘ze boy! Zis can’t be all there is, continue the tests!”_ He laughs coldly. “It never ended. They never stopped. They only stopped when they died, when the Avengers came for us. ”

He finally looks away from the city outside and turns to you, a blank look on his face.

“We were the only ones left. It turns out nobody else even had the x-gene. In the end, we truly were the lucky ones.”

And he finally lets out a choked out sob, and you’re clambouring into his lap, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t say anything. You just hold him close and let him cry.

You fall asleep that night wrapped up together, your hands tangled together over his heart.

* * *

The tenth time it happens it’s not a mistake, it’s the beginning.

* * *

Wrapped up in the comfort of blankets you stretch your arms above you as the sunlight streams through the curtains.

You can hear whispers and giggles behind your bedroom door and then a quiet “ok, ok, go!” and then the doorknob turns, and there’s a small blonde boy sprinting across the room, launching himself onto the bed.

“Woooow! Good morning!” You pull him onto your lap, smiling up at Pietro who’s leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and a beaming smile on his face. “You’re getting so fast, just like your daddy, hey buddy?”

“Nooo! I’m even faster!” The boy protests, jumping off of the bed, running back to Pietro with a ‘nyoooom!’

You laugh heartily as your husband scoops him up, before sitting on the edge of the bed, collecting his morning kiss.

“So you think you’re faster than me huh, buddy?” Pietro ruffles his hair.

“Yeah! I’m fast like mommy!”

You’ve never laughed as hard, or seen Pietro look so offended.

* * *

It starts and ends the same way every other story does.

It ends with a goodbye.

It starts with a hello.

It’s the in-between that’s important.

Except it doesn’t start with a hello.

You’re not quite sure it ever really ends either.


	13. “To be fair to Stark, we did steal his car, no?”

“I’ll have to inform the boss of this.”

“FRIDAY, come on! You know we’re gonna bring it back! We live in the same building as him! Tony doesn’t have to know!” You laugh, feet propped up on the dash of the car (“ _Mr Stark’s currently unreleased to the public, brand new Hennessey car._ ” F.R.I.D.A.Y continues to remind you.) as you speed down the highway. The road is empty and the sun is just beginning to shine as the city begins to stir. 

“My security protocols cannot be overridden by an unauthorised source. The boss has been updated on your current status and location.” The A.I’s voice emanates from the computer in the middle of the dash, before fading out, being replaced once again by the sounds of your CD mix.

Pietro drums his fingers against the steering wheel with a laugh.

“So how do you think this is going to end?”

“Eh, depends.” You shrug, turning your gaze to him. “He could come get us, and make us run home, or maybe override the navigation and steering controls. Or I suppose he could just not be boring, and let us have some fun.”

“To be fair to Stark, we did steal his car, no?” Pietro glances at you as he shifts in his seat, adjusting his seatbelt.

“Eh, he himself has probably done worse.”

“Well, speak for yourself, this is probably the most criminal thing I’ve ever done.”

“You mean you’ve never stolen a billionaire’s car before and gone on a joyride? Oh boy, you haven’t even lived.” You smirk, pinching his arm gently.

“Consider me enlightened.” He laughs, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose, turning to you with a dramatic smoulder. “What’s it like to be dating a bad boy?”

“Oh, it’s a real turn on.” You roll your eyes at him, before sticking your hand out of the window, enjoying the crisp morning air on your skin. “You know that’s the first time you’ve admitted that we’re dating, right?”

He opens and closes his mouth for his second, before making a thoughtful noise.

“Surprise?”

“Urgh, you’re an idiot.”

His face splits into a grin as he opens his mouth to speak, but you get there before him.

“and for the love of god, don’t make some awful comment about being my idiot.”

His cheeks light up bright pink, confirming your suspicions.

“You’re corny and I hate you.”

“We’ve gone from date to hate in less than 20 seconds, that’s probably a record even by our standards.” He laughs.

Then the music cuts out, and a weary sigh crackles through the stereo system.

“It is 5:30am. I told you guys, I literally told you. Not the Hennessey! I wouldn’t have even minded if it was the Audi; the Tesla even! Just not the  _Hennessey_.”


	14. “Maybe I was right in thinking that I should never have even fallen in love with you."

That night’s the eighth time.

His hands are tracing idle patterns into your bare back as you look at him, your face half pressed into the pillow.

“Where did we go wrong?” He murmurs quietly.

You hum noncommittally, feeling his gaze burning into you.

“I don’t think I’m the one who can answer that, Pietro.”

His hand stills on your back, and you almost feel guilty.

He opens his mouth to say something, and then thinks better of it.

“What?” You push his hair out of his face, and he leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Do you-I mean..” He trails off, a furrow in his brow.

“Do I what?” You press gently.

“Do you ever think about Croatia?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.”

“Not even on our first date?”

“It’s a close second.”

“…the gym.”

“Hmm?”

“I think about the gym more.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your shoulderblade like an unspoken apology, sliding an arm around your waist and shifting until you’re nose to nose.

You think of daiquiris and warm hands and jackets just that little bit too big. Of Portugal and panic, and of Croatia and crying. Of all the things that could have been. Of all the things that should have been.

“Of all the songs to come on, huh?” He huffs out a humourless laugh. “Maybe I was right in thinking that I should never have even fallen in love with you, all I did was fuck it all up.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither was I.”


	15. "Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

A shell explodes two streets over and it’s loud enough and close enough to throw off your balance for a second, and that’s all it takes. The object in front of you is suddenly a lot closer than you thought and your feet are skidding in the gravel but you had nowhere near enough stopping distance, bringing your arms up in front of your face as you accept your fate. You slam into the back of Pietro  _HARD_ and you can feel the shockwave emanate from you as you make contact, and then you’re sailing through the air. There’s a blinding pain in your leg as you hit the doorframe of a building, sliding against the inner wall, a heavy weight on top of you.

Your back is against the wall, and your left leg is tucked underneath you. There’s a groan from Pietro, his head smushed at the bottom of your ribcage.

“We need to figure out this, uhh, boom thing, no?”

Then he’s pushing himself off of you, sliding down the wall on your left before looking up at your face and immediately paling. He slips into his mother tongue as he lets out of a row of expletives, but your head is too fuzzy to recognise them.

“Are you okay?!” He exclaims, clambouring off of you.

“Yeah. Mmm, fine. I just hurt my ankle a bit I think.” You rub at your nose absently with the heel of your hand, and you feel something smear up your face, your hand coming away dripping red. “ _Oh.”_

“Yeah,  _oh.”_ Pietro’s using his sleeves to wipe frantically at your face. “C’mon tilt your head forward.”

You do as he says, falling forward against his chest, leaving bloody handprints all over the front of his uniform.

“P, I don’t feel good, everything feels like its spinning.” You mumble, your face pressed against his sternum.

“Hey, okay, Prințesă. Look at me, it’s okay. Just focus on me for a second.” Pietro murmurs, his hands cupping your face.

“  _Prințesă.”_ You echo back at him, making a face. _“_ You didn’t teach me that one yet, and you always use it.”

“It’s nothing, just a name I have for you.”

“But what does it  _mean?”_

“It doesn’t matter! Romanian lessons another time, da? Just focus on me.”

Pietro takes one hand off of your face to touch at his ear. “Our ETA’s been pushed back over here. We’ll be at least five…” He trails off as he looks at you, your head lolling into his hand. “….make that ten minutes, minimum.”

“Hey, don’t take that tone with me.” You smile at him lazily. “I run faster, you heal faster, deal with it.”

“I do heal faster, but you’ll never hear me agree to that other point.”

You snort out a laugh, the blood spraying down your front. The haze in your mind begins to clear you’re suddenly aware you ache all over and you can see the splintered wood where you smashed into the doorframe of the front door of the building.

“Pietro, I need you to do me a huge favour right now.”

“What, what is it?”

“I need you to look at my right foot and please confirm that it’s still in one piece?”

You see his eyes dart downwards and he lets out a loud pained hiss.

“WELL! Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” Pietro grins, a sarcastic thumbs up to go with.

“What?! Why?!”

“Your foot is kind of, ehhhhh. At a 90 degree angle?”

“Oh. That’s. Oh.” You try to look down, but Pietro’s hand on your face tilts your head away before you can catch a glimpse. “I honestly wouldn’t.” He frowns at you, shaking his head.

He reaches to his ear again. “In fact, we’re gonna have to sit this one out. Let us know when the coast is clear as Glitterbomb here isn’t going anywhere. We’ll be wide open to attack if I’m carrying her, so it’s best we just sit tight.”

“You guys need backup?” Rhodey’s voice crackles through “Or you in a safe spot you can lay low?”

“Yeah, is good. We’d just finished our valley recon so we’re on the outskirts, all quiet out here. We’re gonna need to prep for a major bone reset though…”

You hear Sam and Tony make the same disgusted noise over your comms, as Pietro relays your co-ordinates to Rhodey.

You slump forward further into him, burying your nose in the crook of his neck. The effort of holding yourself up has officially gotten too much. You just sit there for a while and try to regain your bearings, but you’re just  _so_ tired. Pietro wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from sliding further down the wall, and you could absolutely fall asleep like this, even though your mind is screaming at you not to. You feel your own eyes widen as you suddenly have a major realisation, looking up at Pietro with the most indignant look you can muster.

“This is totally your fault, by the way. Why had you even stopped running anyway?!” His eyes widen, and he struggles to shrug properly as you’re leaning completely on the arm around your waist.

“I was looking for you! I couldn’t find you!” He protests, his free hand held up in surrender.

“Because I was RIGHT behind you, you  _idiot!”_

“Well I know that  _now.”_


	16. Babysitting the Bartons

“How did we even get drafted into this?” Pietro sighs, shifting Lila higher on to his hip as he stands over you and Cooper who are sat cross legged on the floor.

“I’m pretty sure  _you’re_ the babysitter.” You laugh, taking your attention away from the Lego in front of you. “I’m pretty sure I’m only here because Laura knows I hang out in the lab sometimes, and I think she was hoping I’d be able to fix the dishwasher.”

“You can barely work a dishwasher.” Pietro rolls his eyes with a smile, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Maybe, but I’m still faster than you!” You laugh, before holding your arms out. “Hey, Lila! C’mere! Help me beat your brother.”

“Hey!” Cooper cries. “That’s not fair! How is two against one fair?!”

Pietro hoists Lila into the air, making her squeal with delight. He lifts her through the air, making a ‘nyooooom’ sound as he flies her over to your outstretched arms. You grab her and she settles in your lap as Pietro puts a hand in front of his mouth as if he’s speaking into a walkie-talkie.

“Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for flying with Quicksilver Airlines. The weather today in Glimmer airport is beautiful, radiant sunshine. I’ve been Captain Maximoff, and I wish you a pleasant onwards journey.”

“Best pilot in the bizz.” You laugh before turning to Cooper. “Hey, Pietro can be on your team!”

“Team?” Pietro furrows his brow in confusion.

“Yeah!” Cooper exclaims. “We’re seeing who can build the tallest tower without it falling over! I got ALL my Lego out especially!”

“Cooper has already set a rule of ‘no powers allowed’ before you start thinking this is in the bag, hotshot.” You smirk, raising an eyebrow at Pietro.

“Pfft, so it’s not a race then?” Pietro queries, settling on the carpet next to Cooper. “So how do we decide the winner if neither of them fall over?”

“The one that looks the coolest, duh.” Cooper rolls his eyes at the utterly ridiculous question.

“Okay. So me and Coop already decided the rules.” You drag the nearest box of Lego over to you and Lila. “Time limit is ten minutes, and if they’re the same height then we have to judge whose is the coolest!”

Pietro raises his hand in the air.

“What is it, Pietro?” You ask, barely suppressing a laugh.

“If we’re competing, how are we going to judge?” He looks utterly puzzled.

“Because we are adults and we will be fair and impartial in our ruling?”

He tilts his head to the side thoughtfully before grinning.

“Yeah, well. We all know me and Coop are gonna win anyway.” He high fives the boy, before ruffling his hair.

You launch one of the plastic bricks at Pietro’s head, rolling his eyes as he catches it.

“Hey, extra materials, thanks!”

You roll your eyes even harder.

Lila’s shifted awkwardly and you can feel your calf going numb. You hoist her off of you and seat her next to you, the box of Lego in-between.

“Right then.” You smirk at the boys. “You ready?”

* * *

You’re eight minutes in, and the atmosphere is getting pretty tense. Pietro and Cooper have decided on the castle route and are currently constructing four huge towers, already at least half a foot taller than yours. You and Lila on the other hand are building the Avengers tower, albeit in slightly the wrong colours. You’re working on the floors whilst she puts together an A to affix to the balcony you’ve already made.

You look over at the boys who are finishing up their towers, which are wobbling dangerously.

“Okay, Lila! Time to put the roof on, quick!” You both grab one end each of the roof she’s been building and carefully lower it onto the top of your structure. You’ve just clicked the last brick into place when the timer erupts from your phone in the middle of the floor.

The boys both cheer loudly, just as the tower on the left hand side finally topples over, taking out two of the others on the way down.

They pause as they survey the destruction before both shouting at once.

“That totally counts!”

“The timer went off first, we still win!”

“Okay! Okay!” You laugh. “Yours was definitely taller than ours.”

“Yeah, well whilst mine and Cooper’s tower was tallest  _obviously._  But you gotta admit bud, theirs is definitely the cooler one.” Pietro offers with a shrug. “Everyone is a winner for different reasons! ….although ours is clearly the more important reason.”

“Don’t let Laura hear you say that!” You chide him gently. “You’ll never hear the end of ‘creativity is just as important as everything else!” You turn to Lila who is finally affixing the little blue A to the side of your tower.

“You wanna keep your tower in one piece, Lil? Or should we put it away with Coop’s bricks?”

“I wanna show Dad!” She grins up at you.

“Okay then! One piece it is!” You haul yourself off of the ground, stepping over the mess of plastic. “Hey, P. I’m gonna go check on Nath. Make sure they clear their stuff up, okay?” You press a kiss to the top of his head as you walk past him and up the stairs.

* * *

You’ve been in the nursery at least 15 minutes when you hear a voice behind you.

“Hey.” You turn around to see Pietro leaning against the doorframe, watching you as you lean over the cot.

“Hey. Where are the kids?”

“Glued to the TV. They realised the time and one of their shows was just starting.” Pietro walks over to you, sliding his arms around your middle and hooking his head over your shoulder to look down at the boy. “He still asleep?”

“Yeah, he was stirring a little bit so I figured I’d stay a while just in case he woke up.”

“Hmmm. Has anyone ever told you what his middle name is?”

You frown, your hands sliding down to cover his.

“I don’t think so. Why, what is it?”

“Guess.” He smiles as he stands up straight behind you.

“God, I don’t know. Roman, maybe? I can’t see Natasha being happy with  _just_ Nathanial.” You look up at him with a grin.

“Not even close.”

You frown, at Pietro, not sure why he’s making such a big deal out of it.

“Uh, Nicholas maybe? After what Nick did for them?”

“Nathanial Nicholas, really?” He laughs. “Do you want me to just tell you?”

“I feel like you probably should, yeah.”

“Pietro.”

“Pie-wait, what? Why?” You look at him in disbelief. “I mean, no offence, but I hadn’t really realised you and Clint were friendly enough to warrant that sort of thing.”

“There was.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “Things happened before you arrived in the tower. I’ve been Laura’s favourite ever since.” He shoots you a roguish smile.

“Things?”

“It’s long story, but apparently when you save someone’s life, their partner tends to be more than grateful.” He chuckles quietly.

“How is that a long story?” You frown.

“Eh. Trust me, is a long story.”

You both go quiet, just watching the boy sleep, the last few beams of the days sunlight streaming through the blinds, bathing the room in a peaceful glow.

“You’ll be perfect at this.” Pietro murmurs into your ear, before pressing a gentle kiss into your hair.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing about you all day.” You reply, leaning your head against his.

“One day, no?” He smiles into your neck.

“One day.”

He twists you around to face him, his hands settling low on your hips as you loop your arms around his neck. His eyes roam your face looking to discern what you mean before his face splits into a grin, and you can’t help but grin back.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


	17. Playing House

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Pietro murmurs into your ear, a hand low on your back.

“Because it was either me and you, or you and Wanda, and in situations like this couples always look more believable?” You whisper back, smiling sweetly as you survey the crowd. “Plus we’re pretty much the only ones whose faces have yet to appear in the press, so here we are. Mr and Mrs Maximoff, the cutest couple at the ball,  _obviously_.”

He makes a face at you, grabbing a glass of sparkling wine from a passing tray, and handing it to you.

“Thank you, darling.” You smirk at him before sipping at the drink. Asti. Well done Pietro. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Tony has been wanting to get you into something other than sportswear for months. ‘ruining the team aesthetic’ I think were the words he used.” You laugh as you smooth down one of his lapels.

“Yes, well. I’m not exactly  _comfortable_  right now. I’m not exactly used to this sort of dress code, no?”

“Well I’m just grateful my  _husband_  decided to dress up so handsome and bring me out to this lovely gala.” You grin, curling yourself into his side.

“Yes, well. It’d be a shame to have a  _wife_ who looks at nice as you, and not go dancing every now and again, hmm?” He grins down at you.

“Just nice?” You bark out a dry laugh, and the two couples stood nearby turn to look at you with a frown.

“Hmm, so easy to tease, no?” Pietro laughs, before pressing his lips to your cheek. “You look beautiful, Prințesă.”

You smile into your glass, the older woman is still looking at you and Pietro. Her gaze full of something akin to fondness before she’s turning back to her husband with a smile.

“Why don’t we go dance?” You place your wine down on a nearby table, linking your arm with Pietro’s.

He looks down at you and smiles, wordlessly leading you to the dancefloor.

To anybody else, your slowly rotating movement would look like that of a couple dancing together, basking in each other’s closeness, like the dozen or so surrounding you. But it’s not. Your eyes are scanning the room, examining your access and exit points.

“I can see the staircase behind you, Tasha said the computer we need is in the office at the end of that hallway.” You murmur into his ear, hand on the back of his neck.

He twirls the two of you around with a laugh, but his eyes fix on the staircase.

“I can see it.” He murmurs back. “So how are we gonna do this?”

You grin up at him.

“Fast.”

* * *

“C’mon! We’ve already been in here too long!” You hiss from the doorway.

“I can’t make the files transfer faster!” He replies, rolling his eyes and tapping his foot impatiently. “Okay. 99%…….100!”

Pietro yanks the USB out of the computer, and affixes the bug that will erase all trace of either of you ever being here.

He’s past you in an instant, your hair whipping around your face. Rolling your eyes you step out of the office, swinging the door shut after you. You hear the click of the automatic lock as it closes, and you’re already halfway down the hallway when you hear the approaching footsteps.

“Shit!” You look at Pietro with wide eyes. “Someone’s coming!”

He pulls at your arm, but you tug him back.

“No, we can’t run! It’s too obvious!” You hiss. “They may not know our faces but everyone knows there’s two speedsters on the Avengers.”

“Well what the hell do we do then?!” He replies, the footsteps getting louder. “We don’t exactly have a reason to be up this way?!”

You look at him, then at the end of the hallway, and you make your decision.

You pull Pietro forward by the lapels of his jacket, his arm braced against the wall catching himself, and then your lips are pressed together. You feel him gasp against you, before melting into your touch and pressing you firmer against the wall. Your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, and a hand cups your face, and then Pietro is kissing back open mouthed and enthusiastic.

“Excuse me! Hey!” The man’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a hot knife through butter.

But Pietro doesn’t stop kissing you, his hand tilting your head upwards for a better angle and then his tongue is swiping at your bottom lip and you’re opening your mouth wider and-

“Hey! You can’t be here!” The man’s voice is much closer now and Pietro pulls away. You try and follow him before you catch yourself, and when you open your eyes he’s staring at you with pupils blown black. He drops his arm from next to your head, and wraps it around your waist as he turns towards the man, a puzzled look on his face.

“Is this-is this not the way to the hotel rooms, my friend?” He grins at the security guard, who has one hand on his radio.

“No, Sir. You need to go back into the main ballroom, and the staircase should be straight in front of you.”

“Ah! Thanks.” He claps the man on the shoulder, leaning in to stage whisper with a smirk. “I wasn’t exactly paying attention to where I was going, you know what I mean?”

The guard gives you both the once over with a furrowed brow, like he recognises you, but not quite. His face shifts and he laughs politely, nodding his head at Pietro.

“Yes, sir. Have a pleasant evening, Sir. Ma’am.” He nods at you, before standing between you and the office, a steeled look in his eye.

Then Pietro is spinning you around, speaking Romanian into your ear loud enough for the guard to hear, but low enough to feel private., You don’t understand a word of it, but you giggle along feeling the guard’s eyes burning into your backs as you make your way back to the ballroom, darting straight out of the front door of the building.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe we just did that.” Pietro gasps out, as you walk briskly down the street.

“Oh man, I am not looking forward to this wind chill on the way back.” You shiver, rubbing at your bare arms. In a flash, Pietro is draping his jacket over your shoulders. “Oh. Thanks.”

“That’s what husbands are for, clearly.” He laughs breathlessly.

“I’m sorry I got really into playing house and I kissed you passionately. Just. By the way.” You laugh, hugging his jacket closer.

“Hey, it saved our asses, no?” He smirks at you as you both duck into an alleyway. “Besides, I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frown, shrugging your arms into the jacket, preparing for the run back.

“Eh.” He shrugs as he pulls off his tie and shoves it in the pocket of your jacket, before beaming widely at you. “Just that maybe undercover work is not so bad after all.”

“Is that so?” You raise your eyebrow with a smirk, but he ignores the question, spinning round to face you with a grin on his face.

“So,  _Mrs Maximoff_. Race you home?”


	18. 42nd Street

You’re totally out of your depth.

You’re the newbie, and you’re not even fully training for field combat yet, but when an alien vessel crash lands in Central Park you don’t really have a choice but to answer the call to arms.

You’re stood in the middle of Madison Avenue, the shadow of the tower heavy on your back. There’s rubble and fire everywhere, and so many civilians you don’t know where to start.

Your comms system crackles in your ear and Tony’s voice rings clear as he flies overhead.

“Just done a flyover, Thor could probably use a hand over on 42nd street if anyone is available.”

You look up at Steve whose shuttling the civilians off of the street and into the subway system.

“Go, me and Nat have got this!” He yells over the din of the crowd.

You take off heading south and you hit 57th street in a near instant, skidding to a halt when you see one of the creatures in front of you. You both stare at each other for a moment, then you’re sprinting.

You feel your fist makes contract with a hard armour shell as an arm winds around your throat. You let out a panicked scream before you can stop yourself, using your momentum to wind yourself around onto the creature’s back. Your hands fit flesh and just  _keep going_. You feel the ooze of liquid on your skin as its skull splits away, the velocity of your punches travelling straight through bone. The creature falls forward heavily, you toppling over with it. Scrabbling along the floor and launching yourself back onto your feet, you sprint away, the grisly remains burnt into the back of your retinas.

You suddenly can’t breathe as the wind whips around you. You feel like you’re stuck in a vortex, choking as you stumble heavily to a stop, ducking into an alleyway. Slumping down next to the dumpster, the voices of your team members are buzzing loudly and urgently in your head, and you rip out your earpiece with a shaky breath.

You bring your hands in front of your face, and they’re shaking, god you can’t stop  _shaking_. They’re dripping red, and the liquid on your skin feels like burning tar. It’s creeping up the sleeves of your uniform, the fabric clinging to you.

You hear a noise to your left and you scuttle back desperately, the brick of the wall pressing painfully into your skin.

It’s Pietro, the last of his contrail shimmering away in the wind as he spots you hunched in the corner, covered in blood and terrified.

“I got her, I’ve got her!” He’s shouting into his comms, and then he’s crouched in front of you, grabbing your wrists.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!” His voice is quiet but urgent, his eyes darting over your torso. “Is this yours?! Are you bleeding?”

“N-no, it’s not mine!” You gasp out, your voice rising in pitch as realisation hits you. “Oh my god, I’m covered in fucking blood and it’s not even mine,  _oh my god_.”

“Hey, just  _breathe.”_  He cups your face, making you look at him. “It’s just liquid, you’re fine. It’ll wipe away. It’s just liquid.”

He spots your earpiece lying next to you, dusting it off and putting it back in your ear.

“Please leave that where it is. You screamed and then your feed went silent, it scared the absolute hell out of Tasha and Wanda.” He pauses, his eyes softening. “And me. Jesus, it scared the shit out of me.”

“I can’t do this, I’m not even trained for this, Pietro! I felt my hand go through- oh my god, it just went all the way  _through._ ”

“Hey, hey, okay. It’s okay.” He grabs your hands and wipes them on the knees of his uniform. “You did what you have to do, yeah? You are ready for this. You’re an avenger now, and more importantly you’re my partner. Speedy Squared, remember?”

He tugs you off of the ground and cups your face again, making you look at him.

“You can do this, you are an  _avenger_. Okay? If I can do this, so can you. Plus you’re faster than me, remember?”

“You’re goddamn right I am.” You let out a choked laugh.

“I know you’re scared.” He smiles weakly. “And so am I. But so are these people, and that’s what’s important now.”

You take a deep breath and nod.

“42nd street.”

Pietro frowns at you as you grab his hand and lead him out of the alley.

“Thor needs help on 42nd street.”

“Then let’s go.”


	19. Detour (The Portugal fic)

It feels like you’ve been walking for hours, you can’t even remember the last time you went this long without sprinting and it’s  _painful_.

Wanda’s arm is slung over your shoulder, her broken ankle dragging through the dust. She’s desperately trying to hover in the air, but conjuring nothing but spluttering sparks.

“Nearly there.” You mumble, and you’re not sure whose benefit it’s for; her’s or yours.

She lets out a pitiful whine in response, her foot catching on a loose rock.

You’re stumbling under her weight and your own fatigue, darkness creeping in on your vision.

You blink rapidly, and re-adjust your arm around Wanda’s waist, and you can physically feel your energy ebbing away. You’re nearly at the foot of the hill now, where you know the jet is nestled in the clearing, and you’re praying to god the others are already there.

The blood is dripping steadily from your forehead and into your eyes now, clogging up your eyelashes.

You try to shout, but nothing but a rasp comes out, a choked off sound.

“Wanda.” You gasp, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “I’m too t-I  _can’t.”_

She leans heavier on you, and you nearly overbalance, the blood dripping in your open mouth, down onto your uniform. She raises her right arm shakily and her hand is sparking, then she’s shooting feeble crimson lights into the sky.

You can hear shouting from the top of the hill, and you sob out a laugh, leaning your head against Wanda’s.

“Flare!” You hear Steve shout. A flare? Jesus Christ, Steve, you think to yourself in exasperation.

“That’s not a flare!” Natasha. Natasha is there too. She’s okay. “That’s Wanda!”

You look up, clinging to Wanda, to see the team gathering at the summit. You hear the clunk of Sam’s wings, and see a flash of silver hair, and  _god_. It’s  _beautiful._

In a split second Pietro is in front of you, stumbling to a stop, flying at you like you’re magnets, and the look on his face, it’s like he’s looking at his very own salvation.

He’s at your side in an instant, an arm around you, helping taking Wanda’s weight.

He’s muttering frantically to Wanda, words in their mother tongue that on a better day you could decipher, but right now all you can do is lean into his side and try to breathe. Wanda nods and waves him away, allowing Sam to hook an arm under her shoulder, her ankle gaining reprieve at last as he leads her back to the jet.

Pietro’s arm curls around you firmer as he faces you, fingers tracing your face in wonder.

He buries his face in your hair, pressing frantic kisses, and you can feel his choked off sob more than you can hear it.

You’re all but leaning on him completely now, one hand tangled in his hair holding him closer.

He pulls away, his eyes scanning your face and then he’s tugging his sleeve past his hand, wiping at your face, and you can feel the blood smear up into your hairline, but your vision unclouds finally.

Your fingers are touching his face before you even realise what you’re doing, like you need proof that he’s actually real.

“Hey.” You whisper.

“Hey.” He sobs out a laugh. “What happened? Your GPS dropped out and we- _I_  thought you. God, they wouldn’t even  _let me_  come look for y-“

“Pietro.” You cut him off. “It’s okay, I’m okay. Just took a detour.” You laugh breathlessly, swiping your thumb across his cheek.

Then there’s hands on your face and soft lips on yours. You can taste the salt of his tears, and for a split second you’re not sure you even made it back and this is all a dream. Maybe you’re still back there, back against a tree, still desperately trying to relocate your shoulder into its socket as you watch Wanda get thrown into the air.

But you’re not, and you did, and Pietro is warm and solid against you.

You’re clinging to each other desperately, one of Pietro’s arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, and you’re struggling to keep up, your head spinning.

You break away and your head falls against his shoulder & you feel your knees finally give out as you completely crash.

“Okay, Prințesă. Okay.” He whispers, catching you before you fall and scooping you up into his arms. You feel your head fall back limply as he picks you up.

It takes you a moment to realise you’re still outside, and Pietro is jogging at a normal pace up the hill. You feel like you could throw up from sheer exhaustion and you’re suddenly so glad at least one of you knows when to not push themselves past their speed limit.

It’s no more than 90 seconds before you’re back at the jet, but it feels like hours. Natasha already has Wanda set up on an IV, and Bucky is setting up to strap her ankle.

Pietro sets you down next to her and Bruce pushes him aside, already prepping an IV with the fluids you so desperately need.

You gesture to Pietro limply with your left arm, tugging at his uniform until he sits in between you and Wanda.

You hiss as the needle goes in, and Bruce shushes you apologetically, before making his way up to the cockpit.

You nudge at Bucky’s knee with your foot and he looks up at you.

“Hey, Buck.” You rasp, a crooked grin on your face. “We get ‘em?”

He barks a laugh, patting your leg affectionately.

“Yeah, Speedy. We got ‘em.”

You give him a shaky thumbs up as he finishes securing Wanda’s ankle, before joining Steve and Tasha at the weapons bin.

You feel Pietro slide his arm around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and then one to Wanda’s.

You wave your left hand limply past Pietro and Wanda bursts out a giggle, lacing your fingers together and settling them in Pietro’s lap.

He drags his free hand down his face and lets out a shaky breath.

“If either of you ever do that to me again, I swear.” He laughs, but you can hear the panic and fear that still hasn’t completely ebbed away.

“Do not worry,  _frate_.” Wanda whispers, turning to face him. “Your girls will always come back to you.”

“My girls.” He echoes softly, kissing your entwined fingers before placing them back in his lap, his left hand now tangled in the mess.

“Yeah.” You mumble back, face pressed into his shoulder, finally allowing yourself to succumb to sleep. “Your girls.”

None of you move again the entire way home.


	20. Grilled Cheese (and stargazing)

“What’s that one?” You murmur, your shoulder pressed against Pietro’s.

“The Great Wagon? I think.” He replies, his voice quiet in the pitch black night.

“Huh. I thought it was Orion’s Belt.”

“No, definitely the Great Wagon.”

“Hmm. I think I like Sokovia. You can see the stars, it’s nice.”

“You realise we’re lying in a ditch?” Pietro snarks, and you don’t even need to be able to see him to know his eyebrow is arched, shooting a judgemental look your way. “It’s not exactly my country’s crowning glory.”

“Yeah, well. It’s the little things.” You laugh under your breath.

“I feel like our first time stargazing together should be a lot more romantic, no?” Pietro murmurs quietly, his fingers tangling with yours.

“I’m sorry. Who was it who almost got spotted? Who’s the reason I had to drag our asses into this trench? Who’s the one who never listens to me when I tell him important stuff to do and not do?”

“Hey, that’s not fair.” You can hear the pout in his voice. “I listen to you all the time, and I do important stuff!”

“In all honesty, I’d rather you listened when I said ‘Don’t run that way, there’s guys with guns and the spotlight is about to twist around.’ Rather than you listening to me when I whine that I want a sandwich.”

“Well I can always stop making you food.” He huffs.

“Yeah, Piet. That was absolutely my point.” There’s a beat. “Please don’t stop making me food…”

“Oh well  _maybe_  if I stopped making you grilled cheese all the ti-“

“So how’s it looking Speedy Gon-Recon Team?” Tony’s voice crackles in your ear, cutting Pietro off.

“Oh, you know. Lot of guards, spotlights at the gate. We’re lying in a ditch because  _someone_  is an idiot and nearly blew the plan.” You murmur, gently digging your elbow into Pietro’s side.

“Well, I’m maybe 40 seconds out, so I’d clear from the gate. What run are you planning?”

You turn your head and meet Pietro’s eyes, the moon peeking from behind the clouds, bathing you in dim light.

“Foxtrot circuit, maybe?” You raise an eyebrow, and Pietro nods. “Yeah, Foxtrot Circuit.”

“Okay. Now stop lying around. Time to work for a living, kids.”

You hear the soft crunch of boots on gravel to your left get closer and you launch yourself upwards, clinging to the guards back. One swift blow to the neck and he collapses from underneath you. Your hair whips around your face as Pietro sprints past and deals with the guys partner.

You roll off of the guard to see Pietro offering you his hand, a smirk on his face.

“Clumsy.” He teases, hauling you off of the ground.

“Whatever.” You huff, blowing your fringe out of your face. “At least I know what Orion’s Belt looks like.”

“But it’s the Great Wagon!”

“No, it’s not!”

Then the gate blows out. Tony, Rhodey and the jet flying overhead as the others pour out, dropping into the middle of the compound in quick succession, the area erupting into a cacophony of noise.

You slap at his chest gently, walking backwards towards the chaos with a grin.

“You totally owe me a grilled cheese after this, by the way!


	21. Battle Scars

You sit bolt upright with a gasp, your legs tangled in the sheets.

Your heart is racing and it takes you a couple of seconds to realise that you’re in bed, and you’re not lying on the ramp of the jet, you’re safe and moving and _alive_.

“Pi?” You murmur, reaching over to the other side of the bed, frowning when your hand hits cold empty sheets.

Throwing back the covers, the cool air is refreshing on your clammy skin. Looking at the clock, the red numbers flashing out the markers of the early hours.

Pietro’s jacket is draped haphazardly over your desk chair, and you throw it on over your sleep clothes as you step out into the corridor. The cold tiles under your feet make you shiver as you dig a fist into your eye, blearily making your way to the kitchen.

When you step out into the main living area, your eyes immediately are drawn to the soft glow of the TV, and the dim outline of a figure on the sofa. You creep over to the doorway of the sofa area, and you can see Pietro curled up in blankets in the wide corner of the L shaped sofa.

“Hey.” He says suddenly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Hey.” You reply. “How’d you know I was there?”

“I could say something romantic about being able to sense your presence, but in all honesty I saw your reflection in the glass.” He tilts his head back to look at you, grinning lazily before frowning. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You retort, clambouring onto the sofa and into Pietro’s outstretched arms.

He hums out a noise as you settle in between his legs, encasing you both in the blankets.

“I swear, you wear this jacket more often than I do.” Pietro laughs quietly.

“Does that make it my jacket then?” You tilt your head back against his collarbone, grinning at him.

“I think we both know if it was, you wouldn’t wear it half as much.” He teases, pressing an off centre kiss to the corner of your mouth. He hums happily when you tilt your head, pressing your lips to his.

“What are you watching anyway?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s very educational. Did you know that goldfish can actually remember things for more than 3 seconds?”

“Oh my god, are they seriously still playing re-runs of this episode.” You snort out a laugh. “This is positively _ancient.”_

“There’s not exactly a wide range of choice at 3:30am, no?” Pietro laughs, muting the television. “I took what I could get.”

You both go quiet for a moment, and then Pietro is nudging behind your ear with his nose.

“Was it the same dream again?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“When is it ever anything different?” You murmur, and his arms curl around you firmer, lifting you so you’re sat sideways in his lap, a thumb skimming along the curve of your hip.

“You seemed fine when I got up.” He looks guilty. “I wouldn’t have left if I’d have known.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” You brush his fringe out of his eyes with delicate fingertips, tucking it behind his ear. “Why are you out here anyway?”

It’s his turn to laugh now, but it sounds hollow, an unpleasant feeling settling low in your gut.

“It probably says a lot about a couple when they have the same dreams, no?”

“Hey.” You cup his cheek, making him look at you. “I’m right here. Safe, moving, and annoying as ever.” You tap your fingertips against his cheek for emphasis.

He nods, before pressing his lips to yours. His hands travel to the low of your back, pulling you closer.

“Love you.” He murmurs quietly.

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s sliding a hand into your hair, and kissing you open mouthed and enthusiastic.   
His arm around your waist tightens and then he’s rolling you both over until your back is flat against the sofa and he’s hovering over you, your legs bracketing his hips.

Like muscle memory, your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer. The hand in your hair skims down your body and settles under your thigh, hitching your leg higher on his hip, before teasing at the hem of your shorts.

You pull away with a laugh, but he’s undeterred, moving his lips to your neck instead.

“Pi, c’mon. We’re in the living area.” You laugh, tugging at his hair gently.

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” He mumbles, rolling his hips against you.

“Yeah, I can _feel_ that _you_ don’t mind.”

“I can make you feel other things, if you want.” He purrs into your ear, fingers sliding up past the hem of your shorts, teasing at the elastic of your underwear.

“Another thing I am is able to tell is when you’re trying to distract me to prevent a serious conversation.” You laugh quietly.

“I use this to distract you from everything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and let out an involuntary gasp as he nips gently at your pulse point.

“ _Pietro.”_

Something in your voice makes him pull away, and he sees your furrowed brow, the concern etched on your face, he looks bashful.

“I don’t…” He trails off with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just. I know that you’re not being honest.” You skim your thumb over his cheekbone, and he closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. “When you have that dream, you wake me up because you’re tangling yourself so close to me.”

There’s a beat where he doesn’t say anything, just exhaling loudly, and so you push further.

“I think it’s time to tell me that long story.”

His eyes flutter open and he looks down at you. You hold his gaze and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before sliding off of you, an arm flung low on your belly.

You lay there in silence for a while, wrapped up in the blankets, and your legs tangled together. His fingers are tracing gentle patterns on your hip, his nose pressed into the juncture of your collarbone.

His breathing steadies out, and for a moment you think he’s fell asleep. Then he shifts and he speaks so quietly it could barely be called a whisper.

“I died.”

“In your dream?” Your murmur, not understanding what he means.

“No.”

He exhales shakily.

“There was a boy, in Sokovia. Clint went back to save them. But the jet, it. God, there were so many _bullets_. I don’t even know what I thought I was doing, I just ran at them, but I wasn’t fast enough, not for me anyway, and I…” He trails off and inhales sharply.

“I was gone for hours. I wasn’t hovering, or barely alive or anything of those things. I was dead, I died. Then they brought me back, like some kind of of Frankenstein’s monster.” He laughs bitterly. “Wanda felt it both times. She said it felt like someone had ripped her open, and pulled out her soul. She said it hurt more when I came back, like someone ripped open an old scar, shoved hope inside and left a gaping wound.”

You don’t say anything. You just press yourself closer to him, a hand stroking through his hair, and a foot making soothing motions against his ankle bone. From this angle you can see his eyes shining, even in the dim light of the television.

“When the cradle opened, I woke up. The last thing I remember is the jet flying at me, and then waking up. I was in that box for 6 days. Stark tells me I came back after 6 hours, that I was awake for everything, for the physical reconstruction. I get flashes sometimes, no? Memories of me lying in that box, unable to move, but feeling everything. Feeling my muscles fusing back together, the fibres reconnecting. My flesh…I just-. Wanda took them from me, the memories, I mean. They decided it was for the best. But for 6 days I lived it, barely.”

He finally looks up at you, and his eyes are filled with sadness, defeat even.

“Is unnatural, no? To know death, to know that when my time comes, I’ll be greeting an old friend. I just won’t remember the time we spent together.”

You’re finally aware of the tears streaming down your face as he lifts himself onto an elbow, thumbs wiping at your cheeks, but no matter how much you try you can’t stop crying.

“Don’t cry, Prințesă.” He murmurs, pressing kisses all over your face. “I’m here.”

“Nathaniel Pietro.” You gasp out in sudden realisation. “No wonder you’re Laura’s favourite, playing the hero, oh my god, _Pietro_.” Your fingers scrunch up in Pietro’s shirt at the scruff of his neck, dragging him closer.

He’s crying now as he winds himself around you, sitting up in the corner of the sofa, pulling you into his lap. He rearranges the blankets around you both, cocooning you in. He’s murmuring apologies in your ear in choked off gasps. “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t know how to.” “I didn’t know I _wanted_ to.”

You both jump as the television goes dark, switching itself over to standby.

You sit in the semi darkness, holding each other, the lights of the city around you shining through the windows. Somewhere down in the streets below a cabbie sits on his horn.

It’s the stillest either of you have been in a long while.

Not since Europe.

Not since Sokovia, apparently.

* * *

 

You don’t even know how long you’ve been sat there, trying to process that not only was something like this possible, but that it’d happened to Pietro. It feels like it’s been hours, but the LED numbers of the clock tell you it’s not even been an hour since you left your room.

“Is…” You trail off, biting your lip, uncomfortable at having broken the silence. “Do you think about it a lot?”

He rubs his thumb across your cheek once more, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“No. I, it uh, It only really started again after…after Europe. I think it triggered something, something I don’t even understand or remember. I don’t even remember my dreams, I just wake up feeling terrified and boxed in. Before you arrived I used to go sit on the roof terrace, watch the sun rise, and wait for Wanda to wake up. Wait for her to help me. Clint sometimes sat with me, but I think at the time it was too, uh, raw? Too much guilt.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmur. “If I’d have just been more careful at the church this wouldn’t even be happening.”

“No, don’t do that. Is not your fault.” He cups your face. “I’m safe, moving. Annoying as ever.” He teases with a sad smile, tapping his fingers against your cheek.

You sob out a laugh, and nod.

“At least I know now why you’d rather risk having sex in the lounge than tell me that story.”

“Well, I mean. That’s not the _only_ reason I want-“

You cut him off with gentle shove to the shoulder, and he snorts out a laugh, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his laughter making you shake.

He presses a kiss there, then one to the side of your throat, then your jaw. His stubble rubbing at the sensitive skin of your throat as he goes, before he finally presses your lips together, off centre in the darkened room.

“Back to bed?” He murmurs, lips pressed against your cheek.

“In a while. I wanna sit here for a while longer.” You push him back into the cushions and wriggle further into his lap.

The air feels different now you think, as you card your fingers through his hair, listening to Pietro’s breathing even out as he finally succumbs to sleep.

The mere idea that a story that long, with so many variables, so many impossibilities. The stars themselves aligned in such a way that you’re sat in this man’s lap, on this night, having this conversation. A real dead man walking, a dead man living. As he snuffles, pressing his face further into the juncture of your collarbone, you can’t help but think that maybe something up there meant for this to happen. For you to be sat right here, with this man who gave his life for a complete stranger, who defied logic and science, and the laws of existence themselves.

You can’t help but feel like you’re looking at the man the universe made sure to give you.

And he is absolutely _ridiculous._

* * *

 

It’s Wanda who finds you in the morning.

She’s walking through to the kitchen when she spots you both, curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around each other tighter than the blankets you’re cosied up in.

She only needs to look at you and she knows. Knows her brother finally did what he should have done a long time ago.

“JARVIS” She speaks quietly. “Let everyone know that breakfast is on the terrace this morning, the sofa area isn’t accessible for the moment.”

With a confirmation, Wanda creeps over to the both of you, a gentle hand stroking through Pietro’s hair as she presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Sweet dreams, my loves.” She whispers, filling your heads with warm colours.

She’s sliding the door shut behind her when Bucky stumbles into the main area, scratching absentmindedly at his belly.

“Hey.” He frowns, nodding towards the couch. “What’s that about?”

Wanda links her arm with his with a smile, spinning him away from the sofas and towards the kitchen.

“A long story, perhaps.”


	22. I'll Follow You Into The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an AU! of the verse, the writing style is a little bit different than the other chapters, and I actually thought I'd uploaded this weeks ago, oops.   
> I recommend listening to Gavin Mikhail's cover of I'll Follow You Into The Dark while reading this, and this was also inspired by that one scene in X Men: Days of Future Past. You'll know what scene I'm talking about when you're done reading.  
> Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is encouraged!! ♥

* * *

 

You’d have said so many things.

You’d have told Wanda she was the best sister you never had.

You’d have told Bucky that Steve would have been so proud to see that shield in his hands.

You’d have thanked Natasha for everything. Absolutely  _everything._

You’d have thanked Bruce, for bringing him back to you, when you didn’t even know he was gone.

You’d tell Billy to look after his cousin. To look after himself.

You’d remind Tommy that no matter how many times he challenges you and Pietro to a race, you’d always be faster than them both.

But just maybe not fast enough this time.

You’d have gasped, strong arms around you in an instant, his face horror stricken hovering above you.

You’d have laughed, crimson dribbling down your chin. “Piet, I need you to look at my right foot and please confirm that it’s still in one piece.”

He’d have sobbed out a laugh. “Zero degrees, Prințesă. Zero degrees.”

You’d have touched his face, pushed his hair back like you always do, streaks of red clashing with white.

You’d have smiled. “It took you so long to admit what Prințesă meant.  _So_  long.”

He’d push on your stomach, shaking hands pressing down.

You’d have said. “It’s okay. It’s  _okay_.”

You’d have cried when he begged, pleaded with the gods. When he’d have said “not without me, please. Not without me.”

You’d have whispered to him. “Not now, prințul meu.” And he’d have cried, god you hated it when he cried.

God, there’s been  _so_  much crying. Too much crying. Always crying.

It’s not  _fair_ , you’d have thought. All that time  _wasted._

He’d have pressed on your wounds desperately, the red gushing through his fingers.

You’d have whispered. “It’s okay.”

You’d have whispered. “Look after him.”

You’d have whispered. “Tell him mommy loves him.”

You’d have whispered. “Tell him to be brave, like his daddy.”

He’d have shook his head. “I’ll tell him to be brave, like his mommy.”

He’d have sobbed out a laugh. “I’ll tell him to shine like her. Glimmer in the light.”

You’d have gasped. “I love you.”

You’d have gasped. “I’ll wait for you.”

But you don’t.

There’s just the wind in your hair.

His smiling face from across the courtyard.

Then searing pain.

A flash of red flying at you and missing, a howl of anguish, and then there’s falling.

All you feel is falling.

You’d have said  _so_  many things.


	23. In The Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I accidentally didn't write anything in 4 weeks (I'll Follow You Into The Dark was something I forgot to upload) But I finally broke through my writers block, so yay!

* * *

 

It’s the sliding of your door that wakes you up in the early hours, the metal clunking heavily into its frame.

It’s the lack of sliding of your door that brings you into alertness, the absence of the door closing making you frown.

You roll over in bed with a groan, head near hanging off of the edge, when you hear an exhale of relief from the doorway. Your mouth has barely worked its way around the second syllable in his name before Pietro is crouched low next to you.

The sound of your door sliding shut seems to echo around the silence of your room as you glance at him, all wide eyes and windswept hair, before burying your face back in the pillow.

“You know you really need to stop sneaking into my room like this, people are going to talk.” You attempt to tease, but fail spectacularly as you’re more or less completely muffled by the pillow.

“Not like we don’t already give them enough to talk about.” His voice is hoarse from sleep, with something else lingering below the surface.

There’s a beat where he pauses uncertainly, before quietly murmuring.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I had a nightmare is all.”

“What did Wanda say?”

You can’t help the snark that leaks into your voice due to annoyance from being woken up, and you wince as you hear your own voice, too sharp considering Pietro’s admission. You throw out a hand from beneath the covers searching for contact, and you think he understands the apology behind it when Pietro laces his fingers with your own.

“Wanda?” You don’t even have to be looking at him to know that he’s frowning, his confusion evident in his voice. You dig your free hand into your eye, rubbing away the last of your sleep as you roll over on to your side to face him. When you look at him you notice how truly awful he looks. The dark circles under his eyes hint at more than just one nights missed sleep, and you can see the vaguely fading crescent marks of his fingernails on his cheekbones from where he’s clutched at his own face desperately in his sleep. An action you’ve witnessed first-hand.

“Wanda’s normally in these dreams too, right? That’s what you said last time.”

“Wanda’s asleep, I came here.”

You’re about to argue that you  _were_  asleep as well, before the full meaning of his words hit you, and you can physically feel your face soften as you realise he ran straight to your room.

You’re sat up in a flash, legs dangling off of the bed, and he all but crumples against you. Strong arms winding round your waist and he buries his head in your chest, rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of your t-shirt.

You sit there in silence for a while, your hands rubbing soothing circles at the top of his back.

“C’mon.” Your murmur softly. “Back to bed.”

You feel Pietro nod against you, and his grip loosens as he begins to move away towards the door.

“Not what I meant, genius.” You huff out a laugh, tugging back at his hands, pulling him back towards the bed.

He lets out a relieved noise as you push him down against the mattress, pulling the covers over you both as you settle at his side.

Up close you can see how tired he truly looks, even in the dim light sneaking in through the blinds. Pietro’s eyes are rimmed red, one bloodshot to hell and back like he’s been scrubbing furiously at it in frustration, and the way he’s looking at you is almost like disbelief.

Before you can even think about touching him, there’s hands cupping your face and soft lips pressing fleeting kisses on your forehead, on your cheeks, on your eyelids. When Pietro presses his lips to yours, it feels charged on an indescribable scale, like he’s trying to pour his very soul into you.

“Hey.” You whisper quietly, but Pietro is so close and the room is so quiet, that you may as well be shouting. “It’s okay.”

You nuzzle your nose against his and he closes his eyes in happiness, lips pursed expecting the kiss you take a few more seconds to give him. Then he’s sliding down the bed, one arm slung across your hip, and the other beneath your pillow. He presses his head against your chest and pulls you tight to him.

“Is it still going?” You huff out a laugh, stroking a hand through his hair.

In response he presses a kiss to the source of his comfort, on the heated skin through which the beat of your heart feels the strongest.

It goes quiet for a while, with you stroking a hand through his hair, as he tries to press ever closer to your heartbeat, to evidence that you’re right there and you’re okay, and haven’t fell victim to whatever terrible scenario his mind has tormented him with tonight.

“You good?” You murmur, nuzzling your face into his hair, placing a gentle smooch in amongst the tangled locks almost like an apology for breaking the silence.

“Everything is good when you’re around.” He tilts his head to the side and you don’t need to be able to see his face to know he’s smirking. “Except maybe the damages bill.”

“Says you.” You grumble, punching at his bicep lightly before wrapping your hand around it with an affectionate squeeze. “When I moved in you couldn’t even run to the damn bathroom without breaking something worth more than your paycheck.”

“That’s surely more a comment about the cost of Stark’s furniture than my power control at the time, no?”

“No, Pietro, it really wasn’t.”

He hums non-committedly and the way his shoulders slump let you know you that the last tendrils of his nightmare have finally wisped away.

You’ll talk about it in the morning. Talk about the never ending conundrum as to why you’re not already sharing a room. Talk about how the setting of his nightmares has slid rapidly from Sokovia to Portugal. Talk about why a lack of sleep with the powers you both have is a recipe for disaster.

But right now you’ll relish in the gentle hand cradling your hip, a thumb skimming across the heated skin. Right now you’ll take comfort in Pietro’s steady breathing as he slowly succumbs to sleep.

Everything else can wait until morning.


	24. "Can I kiss you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently accepting prompt requests over on my tumblr (jamessbbarnes.tumblr.com) and I recently recieved about 5-6 prompts for this verse, so expect this story to be updated a fair bit this over the next couple of days/this week!

* * *

 

The air is cold and bitter as you and Pietro walk out of the restaurant in Brooklyn, and Pietro’s jacket doesn’t do much to offset the chill in regards to your mostly bare legs. Regardless of the amount of time you’ve spent together before now, tonight was still your first real date.

The evening had started off with a stumble, despite the fact the small family run place had come personally recommended by Steve and a promise of a fully enforced Avengers discretion policy. That doesn’t stop Pietro from jiggling his leg underneath the table, looking around nervously as if paparazzi are going to jump out from a plate of anti-pasti.

“Pietro.” You’d laughed quietly, placing your hand on his knee. “Chill out.”

The bashful look he gave you spoke an apology, and one condescending joke later, you both easily fell back into your usual banter.

Which is how you’re stood out in the freezing cold, slightly buzzed with rum, sated with good food and company and happily snuggled into Pietro’s leather jacket.

“So I see our normal mode of transportation is out of the question tonight then.” Pietro teases, looking down pointedly at your high heeled shoes.

“Hey. You told me we were going somewhere fancy, so I made myself look pretty.” You pout, looking from your own feet, to Pietro’s face.

Pietro makes a displeased sound, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You don’t need to do anything to make yourself look pretty, you’re always beautiful.”

You can’t help but snort out a laugh, pushing him away gently.

“Okay, charmer. Maybe dial it back a notch or two.”

“Hey, no.” Pietro laughs, grabbing your hand and spinning you back towards him, smiling as you allow yourself to huddle up against his chest. “I know we don’t get serious very often, but I mean it.”

You tilt your head slightly, and raise an eyebrow, and he makes a face before babbling.

“I mean, the second time we ever went on a mission together you re-broke my nose twice, and you hated me so much you seemed to enjoy it. But I remember being sat there like an idiot, with you straddling my lap. You were covered in grime, and blood, and your uniform was ripped because Stark hadn’t gotten the specs right yet for your speed. I remember thinking how utterly infuriating you were, and how mean you were being to me, and then you cracked my nose back into place and leaned back and  _smiled_  at me. Not even condescending or anything, you’d genuinely helped me and then you smiled at me and I was sat there, like an idiot, blood dripping down my face completely stuck on how beautiful you looked, and I knew instantly how much trouble I was in.”

You stare at each other for what feels like an age whilst your brain processes this information, and the new knowledge that Pietro has felt this way for months has your brain in knots, and so you end up blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t  _hate_ you.”

“Well you certainly didn’t like me!”

“….that’s true.” You snort, rolling your eyes, looking out towards the east river.

“Hey.” And the change in Pietro’s tone makes you look back at him as he steps back into your space, using a finger to tilt your chin up towards him.

He leans in close, nuzzling your nose against yours.

“Can I kiss you?” Pietro murmurs, and it’s so quiet if you were any further away, you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Oh, you’re asking now?” You quip, pulling back slightly to grin at him. “I don’t remember you asking in Portugal.”

Over Pietro’s shoulder you notice the woman who is stood outside with a cigarette is staring at you. You make eye contact with her and you can see the lightbulb moment take place as she looks at your face, and the silver hair of your companion, and realises just who she’s looking at.

“Was that a no? I thought I’d already fulfilled your terms with all those daiquiris I bought, and my new shirt.” Pietro’s voice is teasing, but the furrow in his brow lets you know it’s a genuine question.

You pat at his chest softly, smirking at him.

“and it’s a very nice shirt too, it matches my uniform and everything.”

“Was…was that a no?” His voice is unsure this time, and he leans back slightly, and you feel guilty for not realising how serious his question was.

You don’t give him time to move away completely though, instead you wrap your arms around his neck tugging him down closer and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

He lets out a noise of surprise, and then a pleased hum as he wraps his arms around your waist beneath his jacket.

You hear a noise that sounds suspiciously like an iphone camcorder, but you ignore it, totally wrapped up in the bubble you and Pietro have created for yourselves. His hand flattens against the bare skin your low back dress has revealed and presses you closer to him, making you stumble slightly on your high heels, falling against his chest.

You make to pull away but Pietro follows you, bringing one hand up to cup your face and deepening the kiss instead, kissing you open mouthed and eager. It’s when his hand begins to slide lower down your back you turn your head away with a laugh, and he presses his lips to the side of your face in quick succession, grinning all the while.

“Pietro!” You giggle, grabbing at his hands. “C’mon, let’s get a cab.”

“A cab? Why don’t we just ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to send out one of Stark’s cars?”

“Because there are taxi’s right here, and my feet hurt. Plus, I was hoping to make out with you in the backseat like a couple of teenagers, but I mean if you want to call a car where the driver knows us personally the-“

Your sentence is cut off by the whooshing of wind as Pietro is suddenly 30ft away with his arm in the air. You laugh high and loud, and he turns his head to grin at you.

“A cab it is then!”

 


	25. "Have you ever wanted to hate someone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaay!! Reader/Sam BFF interaction! This is obviously set at the start of the verse. Would anyone be interesting in seeing the list I have of all the fics and their chronological order they take place?  
> Let me know if that's something that'd interest you guys! :)

* * *

“Have you ever wanted to hate someone?” You huff, chin resting on your hand.

Sam pauses his fight with the unblended fruit in his smoothie to shoot you a perplexed look.

“Well, I can’t say I like it when you write shit on my wings. But I somehow don’t think that’s what you mean.”

“Alright, listen. I haven’t done that in forever.”

“You did it last week.”

“That doesn’t even count. I didn’t write anything. I drew a smiley face.”

Sam rolls his eyes, and goes back to reading the newspaper. You sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, picking absently at your muffin.

“Okay.” Sam says suddenly, not even looking up from his reading. “So why do you want to hate Pietro?”

You inhale sharply and choke slightly as crumbs hit the back of your throat as Sam shoots you an amused look.

“Who said anything about Pietro? I didn’t say anything about Pietro, why are we talking about Pietro.” Sam raises an eyebrow at you. “I have no idea why you’d even mention Pietro, this is absolutely nothing to do with him.”

Sam turns around in his chair fully to match your eye line.

“That why you’re staring at him again?”

You pull your eyes away from where Pietro is sat on the pool table, talking to Wanda and Bucky who are lounging on the sofas.

“I wasn’t staring, shut up.”

Sam looks and you pointedly, and you roll your eyes.

“Listen, I think I get a free pass to look at the guy who tries to charm my pants off every time he talks to me.”

 “He’s a nice guy you know.” Sam offers, and you let out a groan.

“That’s all well and good, but allowing myself to be all doe eyed over someone is a little bit different when not only are they your teammate, but they’re your mission partner AND you live with them. It’d make it a bit awkward when the next girl comes along and he flirts with her instead.”

Sam snorts out a laugh, clapping his hand over his mouth to try and muffle the noise.

“What?! What’s so funny?” You grumble, folding your arms.

“I’ve been here longer than you, and I can confidently say, I have never in my life seen Pietro flirt with anyone other than you.” Sam points a finger at you to emphasis his point. “Why do you think everyone is so amused by this little thing you have going on? It’s because none of us have seen Pietro like this before.”

“I’m not sure it’s a thing anymore.” You mumble into your hands.

You can’t see him, but you can hear the frown in Sam’s voice when he asks.

“Why? What happened?”

“I think I may have gone a bit too far last night.” You admit, picking awkwardly at your fingernails. “I mean, even by my standards. He caught me on a bad day.”

“What’d you do?” He sighs.

“We were training, and I managed to kick off from the wall and land myself on his shoulders, y’know like Tasha taught me? He just looked at me all starry eyed and told me I amazed him. I guess I just snapped, and felt like he was making fun of me. So I told him to shut the fuck up, and stay away from me.”

“Wow. Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

You sneak a look at Pietro and as if he can sense the eyes on him, he looks up and spots you and Sam. His face falls a little, but he offers a hesitant albeit friendly wave. You spin your chair around immediately, embarrassed at being caught. Sam waves back, feeling a pang of sympathy when Pietro deflates and his face flushes pink, lowering his hand awkwardly.

“Go talk to him.” Sam offers, leaning back towards you. “You have to remember he’s not as used to this as you are.”

“What?” You smirk. “Talking to girls?”

Sam laughs, and kicks at your shin gently before turning serious again.

“No, it’s like you told me once. You feel like everything goes slow, right? And you’re moving too fast? You’re used to that, you’ve felt like that for a majority of your life now by now? Blue suede shoes over there hasn’t. Maybe he just can’t tell when he’s _genuinely_ going too fast?”

You open and close your mouth, before making a non-committal noise and tilting your head in a way that Sam knows means ‘you have a good point, but I’m not about to admit that.’

“Anyway.” Sam huffs and stands up, shrugging on his jacket. “I’ve got training with the other half of the bird squad.”

“Please stop calling yourselves that.”

“I know.” Sam groans with a wince. “Barton started it, and I made the mistake of humouring him and now I can’t stop saying it.”

He stops fussing with his jacket to fix you with a serious look.

“Think about what I said though. Besides, even if what you said did happen. What’s worse? You guys get together, break up and it’s awkward for a while, or you carry on being outright mean to your combat partner in the hopes he’ll stop being attracted to you?”

You make a face at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“It might do you some good too. You never know, you may even crack a smile for once.”

He sucks the straw of his drink obnoxiously loudly and raises his eyebrows, before patting you on the shoulder and leaving.

You pick at your muffin absentmindedly, breaking up the crumbs between your fingers and spreading them across your plate. Your very important deconstruction of baked goods is disrupted by a plate sliding across the table next to you. You look up to see Wanda smiling down at you, fingers tentatively nudging the plate with a new muffin towards you as Bucky holds the door open waiting for her.

“He hasn’t eaten breakfast yet.” She offers, and you frown, looking across the room to see Pietro still seated on the pool table, staring out of the window.

You open your mouth to reply, and she looks at you pointedly. You close your mouth and look from the muffin and then back over to her brother, before nodding.

She smiles at you, before re-joining Bucky and you watch as they make their way towards the elevator.

You stare hard at the muffin as if it can solve all your problems, but when it doesn’t you sigh, grabbing it off the table and walking over to Pietro.

You stop at the doorway of the main area, and watch him for a moment. Feet hovering a few inches off of the ground from how far back he’s sat on the table, and the rumpled sweatpants and shirt let you know he’s absolutely been forced out of bed by his sister.

“Hey.”

He flinches, and the way his shoulders stiffen let you know it’s not just in surprise, the realisation feeling like a punch to the gut.

“Hey.”

You walk around the pool table until you’re facing him, and up close he looks tired. Dark circles under his eyes and bloodshot to boot, your original plan goes out the window.

“Close your eyes.” You murmur.

He frowns at you, but when you nod, he does as you ask.

Setting the muffin down next to him, you take a step towards him, standing in-between his legs.

You wrap your arms around him, pressing your head against his chest as you hug him tightly. You feel rather than hear his soft sound of surprise, before he returns the hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You stand like that for a while, relishing in the contact and the warmth. Pietro is tracing a pattern onto your back with his fingertips, and you can’t help but let out a happy sigh at the gesture.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I’ve been so awful to you lately.”

“You don’t have to apologise for me making you uncomfortable.” He says, and the guilt in his voice makes you feel even worse than you already did.

“No, that wasn’t what was happening. It wasn’t you.”

“It….wasn’t?” His voice is laced with confusion.

“No. It was a me thing.” You tilt your head as you ponder your words. “Or, well. I thought it was a you thing, and it turns out it’s wasn’t, which in reality turned out to be a me thing all on it’s own.”

“I….am completely confused as to whether this is good or bad.”

In response you tighten your arms around him, snuggling in closer.

“Oh. Good thing?”

You slide your arms from around him, stepping back to climb up onto the pool table next to him.

“Here.” You suddenly remember, picking up the muffin and holding it out towards him. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Lemon?”

“Like I’d ever let any other flavour enter this building.”

He smiles, breaking off a piece and offering to you.

You shake your head, and he raises a surprised eyebrow.

“I’ve already eaten.”

He nods in understanding, popping the treat into his own mouth.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened?” He murmurs quietly, but you can hear the shaking in his voice.

“I thought you were making fun of me.” You whisper, looking away pointedly.

You see him turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, and you can’t help but feel a pang at his crestfallen expression.

“Why on earth would you think that? I’d never do that. Not in that way, I’d never say things like that as a joke.”

“I know that now, I guess.” You pick at your fingernails awkwardly. “I’ve just never really had anyone say those kinds of things to me and mean it.”

“You must have known idiots your entire life then.” He quips, nudging at your arm gently.

You can’t help but snort out a laugh, hooking your arm though his and resting your head on his bicep, relishing in the warm skin beneath your cheek.

“I know this is going to sound strange, considering who we are. But this is a weird environment to get to know someone in, and our jobs don’t exactly make our friendships simple, much less anything more.”

He tenses up beneath you, and you hastily try to back up and undo the damage.

“I’m just saying that, maybe you should cool your jets a little?” He frowns at the metaphor and you think fast to reword your request. “Uhh, slow down? Maybe just get to know each other properly first, so we don’t end up with a repeat of last night.”

Pietro hums and nods, picking at the muffin as if it’s caused him personal offence. You lean over him, breaking off some of the top and shoving it in your mouth. He looks down at you with an offended look and you can’t help but laugh, one hand over your mouth to stop the crumbs flying everywhere.

“Thought you said you weren’t hungry?”

“I changed my mind.”

He huffs at you, placing the muffin down next to him, wiping his hands on his sweatpants.

You sit there for a while, watching as a chopper lands on top of the Oscorp building in the vague distance, and you absently think about how you haven’t heard from Miles or Peter lately.

“Am I still allowed to call you Prințesă?” Pietro asks suddenly.

“Considering I have no idea what that means, I’m not sure how to answer that. But I know you’re going to do it regardless, so let’s go with yes.”

The look Pietro gives you makes you feel like you should absolutely google the translation of that word later on.

“Y’know.” You pause slightly, hugging closer around his arm. “It doesn’t really hold that much weight considering I’ve never had a partner before, but you’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I mean. I’ve technically had a partner before, but you’re the best one I’ve ever had too.” He drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell Wanda I said that.”

You laugh loudly, grinning against his arm.

“I think this means we need an official team name now.” He says, tapping gently on your thigh.

“Oh my _god._ I was _just_ talking to Sam about this.”

“What about…uh.” He trails off thoughtfully.

“I heard Tony calling us Speedy Squared the other day?” You offer up with a shrug, you feel Pietro shift and you sit up to see that he’s looking at you in confusion.

“Oh! Uh, it’s like. A square number is when you times a number by itself? So we’d be speedy squared because there’s two of us. I guess?”

 “Speedy times Speedy equals Speedy Squared.” Pietro laughs. “I like it.”

“Yeah.” You grin. “Me too.”


	26. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic in particular is a direct companion piece to "Up Against The Glass" in my Harry Osborn x reader verse, which is also here on ao3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so TWO new chapters for you all tonight! I've finally got around to uploading my Harry Osborn x reader verse, as well as my Vladimir Ranskahov fic when I suddenly realised i'd forgotten to upload these.  
> For the fics as soon as they're finished, follow me over at pietromcximoff.tumblr.com! (i'll still upload everything here, just sometimes I forget for a few days/a week or so!)

“Why do you always insist on wearing heels if they hurt your feet so much?” Pietro laughs on the sofa next to you. “You do this at every party!”

“Because that’s kind of all there is to wear for formal things, Pietro!” You retort. “Besides, we’re sat down now, so I’m not complaining, so  _you_  can stop complaining.”

You rub at your feet with a pained hiss and Pietro rubs his thumb along your shoulder soothingly.

“Do you two ever do anything except bicker?” Bucky chuckles as he pours himself and Wanda fresh drinks.

“Eh.” Pietro shrugs. “We have sex too sometimes.”

You elbow him in the side as Sam bursts out laughing.

“If that’s your definition of sometimes then  _wow._ ” You arch an eyebrow at him, and he matches your look. “I’m in the next goddamn room, the building isn’t  _that_  soundproofed.”

You let out an offended noise, sticking your nose in the air.

“Jealousy gets you nowhere in life, Wilson.”

“Children.” Wanda laughs, taking the glass of wine from Bucky with an appreciative smile. “You’re all children.”

“Too slow, kid!” Tony hollers suddenly jogging past the back of the sofa, flicking Pietro on the ear. He flinches away with a yelp as you and Sam laugh.

“Tony!” You laugh, swatting at him and missing. “Don’t be a dick!”

When you turn back around Pietro is rubbing at his ear, a scowl on his face.

“Oh, poor baby.” You coo, pressing a kiss to his ear, then to his cheek.

“Does anyone actually know what this party is for?” Wanda asks. “He’s had so many lately, I’m losing track.”

“Don’t look at me.” You reply, holding your hands up. “I just show up and get drunk.”

Pietro hisses out a low ‘ _yess_ ’ and you clink your glasses together without looking away from Wanda.

She rolls her eyes at you both, folding her legs underneath her on the couch.

You turn back to Sam as he excitably explains the functions of the new smart desk Tony purchased for him, Pietro’s chin hooked over your shoulder as his listens in on the conversation.

“Oh.” Wanda suddenly breathes softly, cutting off Bucky’s sentence and making you all turn to her.

“What?” Pietro frowns at his sister. “You alright?”

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts, and nods.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just. That man, over there. At the window with the girl. I heard them is all.”

You, Sam and Pietro all turns in your seats to look who she means, making Wanda scoff (“wow, real subtle, guys.”)

“Hey, isn’t that the kid from OsCorp?” You question, turning back to the group in hopes one can confirm your suspicions.

“Yeah.” Sam offers. “Like, I’m pretty sure he’s the actual Osborn kid, I mean.”

You squint your eyes and watch the couple at the window with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, he seems kind of familiar. Hey, Sam. Isn’t that the girl who made those sweet ass desks you guys all got?”

“It is? God, I don’t know, I never met them. I just asked for the thing and Stark provided.” He laughs, swigging at his beer.

“Oh, good  _lord_.” Wanda suddenly laughs to herself, making you all look at her, as she swigs heavily at her glass of wine.

“What?” Bucky asks, looking around the room.

Wanda looks away from the couple, her eyes wide with amusement and a blush high on her cheeks.

“If she is the one who invented the desks, I don’t think an employee is the only thing she is to that man.”

“Ooooh!” You squeal. “Wanda, did you accidentally pick up on celebrity gossip?! Spill immediately.”

“I’m not sure I want to say it aloud!” She laughs, a blush high on her cheeks.

“Well, now you definitely have to say it.”

“He’s, uh.” She bites her lip in amusement, dropping her voice low. “ _saying_  things. To her. About her.”

There’s a pause as you all turn around to look at the couple, then back at Wanda.

“What kind of things about her?”

Wanda purses her lips in amusement as she looks over at them, listening on purpose this time.

“Maybe about her was the wrong words. More uh-about what he wants to  _do_  to her.”

You squeal out a giggle, clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Is Harry Osborn fucking  _dirty talking_  to his girlfriend in our living room?!”

“There’s no need to sound so excited.” Pietro grumbles next to you, folding his arms.

You coo at him gently, pressing your lips to his cheek.

“I bet your sweet talking is just as good, don’t you worry.” You turn to Wanda with a smirk. “But to know for sure, we need to know what Osborn is saying.”

Wanda looks up at the couple again and her eyes widen, before she bursts out laughing all over again.

“We were right! She is definitely the girl who invented those smart desks!” She cackles, leaning heavily into Bucky’s side.

“How do you know?” Sam frowns.

“Because-“ She breaks off into another round of giggles. “He just told her he’s going to bend her over his desk, and.  _Well_.”

You and Pietro turn around at the same time to stare at the couple and you bite back a laugh as he slides a hand up his companion’s leg.

“He realises they are not alone in this room, yes?” Pietro laughs in astonishment.

“I’m not sure he cares.” You reply, before looking at him with a smirk. “Seems like you two would be great friends.”

There’s a choked off sound and Wanda is burying her face into Bucky’s bicep to muffle her laughter.

“What!” Pietro laughs, leaning forward and nearly spilling his drink. “What’s he saying!?”

“I’m not saying it out loud, oh my god!”

“Tell me! I’ll say it out loud.”

“I know you will, that’s the problem, brother.”

“C’mon, Wanda! You clued us into it! Don’t spoil the fun now!” Sam laughs.

Wanda stares at Pietro and raises and eyebrow, and you can tell the split second the unspoken conversation takes place as a blush creeps up the back of Pietro’s neck at the same time the laughter bursts out of him.

“ _Jesus._ ” Pietro whistles lowly. “He realises he’s in a room full of people with abilities right? Plus, you know. People stood less than 10 feet away from him?”

He tilts his head thoughtfully, and Wanda rolls her eyes, knowing what’s coming next.

“Pretty impressive dialogue though, I’ll give him that.”

“Don’t showboat! Tell us what they’re saying!” Bucky laughs, kicking out towards Pietro’s leg gently.

“Okay, okay!” Pietro laughs, sipping at his drink. “Should I do a voice? Wait. How do rich assholes talk?”

“Hey! Stark!” Bucky calls suddenly across to the bar, making Tony turn around.

“No, no, can it, Buck. This is gonna be good.” Sam laughs waving Tony off and pointing at Pietro. “Okay, go.”

Pietro shuffles upwards in the sofa, making you slump further into his side. He holds one hand out to the centre of the group, his tone higher and slower than his normal voice.

“I wanna.” He pauses, licking at his lips. “I wanna fuck you hard. Right up against the window.”

He reaches out to Sam in an over exaggerated manner, grabbing at his hand.

“I’d push you up against the window. Have you spread your legs, and arch your back for me.” He purrs, and Sam snatches his hand away with a mortified look on his face

“Goddamn it, Maximoff. You’re gross as shit sometimes.”

Pietro is undeterred, turning to Bucky instead, making the smart decision to reach his hand out towards his face rather than his metal arm. Bucky merely folds his arms and smirks and waits for Pietro to do his worst.

“You’d look so pretty. Sound even prettier when you beg me to fuck you where anyone could see us.”

You’re cackling into your drink, face half buried into Pietro’s back when a new voice cuts through Pietro’s crooning dirty talk.

“What the fuck.”

You turn round to see Clint stood with a bottle of beer in his hand, and a bemused look on his face. You all go quiet, and you look past him to see the couple rush in to the elevator and when the girl presses Osborn against the wall as the doors slide shut, you’re laughing all over again.

Clint takes another look at you all, the empty bottles of wine and whisky on table and rolls his eyes before walking away.

“I’m not even gonna ask.”


	27. Counting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some self indulgent Pietro x reader x Harry Osborn, because why the heck not?

Harry swigs at his tumbler of whiskey thoughtfully, foot jiggling in the air where it’s crossed on his knee.

Opposite him, Pietro drains his glass, his stare so fierce that Harry is surprised he hasn’t burst into flames already.

You’re completely oblivious to the hostile charge in the air, curled up on the sofa, giggling into your glass of wine.

“I’m glad you guys snuck away with me, these parties are always so  _boring._ ”

They both turn to you with matching quizzical looks, considering there’d been zero planned sneaking away on their part.

You’d found Pietro first, at the bar, chatting to a young woman whose dress somehow showed more cleavage than yours. All you’d needed to do was press yourself against his side and slip your hand in his and you were pretty sure he’d have followed you to the ends of the earth if you’d asked.

He’d trotted after you eagerly, fingers laced with yours as you’d led him off of the main floor and away from the pretentious hubbub of the gala. It was only when you’d pushed open the door at the end of a corridor, finally finding an empty room, that you realised you’d left your drink downstairs. You’d pushed at his shoulder gently, guiding him into the room with promises you’d be back soon. He’d nodded eagerly, settling into an armchair as he tugged at his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt, legs spread open in his slim cut trousers in an inviting manner that half made you want to forget the drink, and forget about your plan.

Back downstairs, Harry found you, before you found him. You’d been leaning casually against the bar waiting to order a new drink when an arm had slid around your waist, and the smell of expensive cologne had invaded your senses.

“Well, well, well.” He’d chuckled in your ear. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

You’d accepted the kiss on the cheek he gave you, spinning around in his arms

“Says the one who looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards.” You’d scolded, straightening his tie, his Adam’s apple bobbing under your hands as he gulped.

“Hey, it got your pretty hands on me, didn’t it?” He’d smirked, tilting his head towards the bar. “What were you after? I’ll grab it for you.”

“Wine. A bottle of it, maybe two. Some whiskey too?” You’d grinned cheekily at him, grabbing at his arm affectionately. “It’s getting boring here, and I was going to go relax in one of the rooms upstairs. You can join me if you’d like.”

He’d stepped around the bar, swiping at a bottle of zinfandel he knew to be your favourite, and a bottle of his preferred whiskey to match.

“Lead the way, m’lady.” He’d laughed, ushering you towards the stairs, and  _oh_  their faces when you pushed that door open and they’d spotted each other.

“Yeah, well.” You’re snapped back into the present by Harry’s voice as he turns to match Pietro’s glare. “Y’know what they say. Three’s a crowd, two’s a party.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully, grinning into your glass as Pietro’s grip tightens on his own.

The tension in the air is palpable now as they stare at each other from across the coffee table. Harry’s fingers are tapping out an almost frantic rhythm of the leather armchair, and it sets you on edge, like a beat building up a crescendo. Pietro on the other hand is stock still, tension tight in his jaw in a way that would be frightening in another context, but right now all you can do is admire the sharp edge of his jawline.

You know for a fact the atmosphere won’t shift without your intervention, so you decide to push on, and give them something else to focus on.

“Why are you both sat so far away?” You murmur, holding out your hands towards both of them. “Come sit with me.”

You’re not quite sure which of the three of you are more shocked when Harry beats Pietro to the sofa, pressing himself close against your side. He drapes an arm lazily across the back above your shoulders. You shift slightly in your seat leaning your back into the crook of his arm, and he murmurs happily, pressing a kiss into the back of your perfectly preened updo. Pietro frowns before smirking lazily at you, sauntering slowly to where you’re sat. He curls his leg underneath him as he sits down next to you, back pressed against the arm of the sofa. He then takes great pleasure in taking your hand, kissing the back of it, smirking against your skin as your cheeks flush pink and Harry grumbles unhappily.

“In fact.” You say, tearing your eyes away from Pietro’s heated gaze and glancing down at your empty glass thoughtfully. “I want a refill.”

You stand up, wobbling slightly as your stilettos dig into the plush carpet. Pietro’s hand shoots out to grab at yours holding you steady at the same time Harry places a hand against the curve of your hip, stopping you from falling backwards.

“My heroes.” You laugh, kicking off your heels, wincing slightly as they clunk heavily against the wood of the coffee table.

You wander over to the side table where Harry dumped the drinks earlier, and pour yourself a new glass of wine.

“You boys want refills?” You ask, leaning against the mahogany. They both shake their heads, Harry raising his still full glass towards you in a kind of salute. You nod, swigging at the wine, relishing in the undertones of strawberry, offset by the familiar bitterness. You admire them both for a second, without you pressed in between them, both of them are half splayed across the sofa, their eyes heavy on you, and you know you have them.

“Is it just me or is it warm in here?” You ask, fanning yourself with your hand and huffing, making your hair blow upwards for a second as you reach up on your tiptoes to crack open the frosted window next to you.

“Warm.” Pietro confirms. “Is very warm.”

“A satin dress was a bad choice.” You huff again, walking back over to the sofa, and then turning your back to them both.

"Can you help me with this zipper?" You murmur, putting your glass down on the coffee table and sweeping your hair over your shoulder to reveal the offending fixture of your floor length gown.

They’re both off of the sofa in an instant, hands bumping into each other as they reach out for the zip.

“Listen, kid. The lady was talking to me.” Harry deadpans, pushing Pietro’s hand away.

“Kid?!” Pietro barks out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m older than you, you stuck up asshole.”

“Listen here, Maximoff. You need to learn when you’re beat. Following us and speeding into the room before we can get there? A real class act.”

“Follow you?!” Pietro cries incredulously. “ _You’re_  the one who followed us in here, she asked  _me_.”

“No. She asked  _me_. Just like she asked  _me_  to help her with her dress. Pick up on social cues, and get the hell out, blondie.”

“Blondie? Fuck off, you  _spiriduş_.” Pietro hisses, jabbing a finger into Harry’s chest.

“Hey.” You murmur softly, flattening your palms against both of their chests and they both fall silent. You sweep your thumbs soothingly and they both let out a breath, their anger seemingly dissipating. You hesitantly bring your hands back down to your sides, glancing between the both of them.

Then Pietro hisses something under his breath to Harry, and then they’re at it again, squabbling like children. You sigh heavily at the realisation that without quick and drastic measures, this isn’t going to end the way you’d planned. You’d been enjoying the wine too, seems a shame you won’t finish it.

Harry and Pietro both freeze at the sound of a zipper sliding down slowly and look up just in time to see your dress fall from your shoulders and pool at your feet.

Their twin intakes of breath are sharp and loud in the sudden silence of the room, and you feel yourself smirk in pride, suddenly glad that you wore a dress that necessitated going braless.

“Now, boys. Are you quite finished? Or are we just getting started?”


End file.
